


Let's Hurt Tonight

by WillPJackson



Series: Not Like a Brother [5]
Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Blow Jobs, Clustin, Coming Out, Drug Withdrawal, Hand Jobs, Hannah Baker (imagined), Heavy Angst, Jeff Atkins (mentioned) - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Not Season 3 Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post Season 2, Scott Reed/Jeff Atkins in a perfect world, Suicidal Thoughts, Undiscovered crush, Unrequited Crush, depictions of drug use, imagined self-harm, pre-season 3, slight kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2020-07-29 20:03:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 74,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20087980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillPJackson/pseuds/WillPJackson
Summary: Justin's dark truth has come to light. How will it make, or break, his relationship with Clay and his family?





	1. How could you?

**Author's Note:**

> Needless to say, I am BEYOND shook by the drop of the Season 3 teaser. I have so many thoughts but to be as concise as I can, season 3 looks to be going in a direction I truly did not expect. I have mixed feelings about it taking place so far ahead, as I suppose it makes sense for the series, but it makes me wonder if all the seeds planted at the end of season 2 will really be followed through on--especially when it comes to Justin.
> 
> I also have to admit I feel a little dumb for never considering the possibility of no one beyond Clay and the circle finding out about what Tyler tried to do, which seems to be what the press release from Netflix is implying. Had I thought of that, I might have shaped events differently, but I have no intention of going back. Forward, not back, as Justin says. Ultimately, I think resolving Tyler and Monty (so far) as I've done was really the only way I could get to Justin's story the way I wanted to. (And I know I should really feel free to do whatever the heck I want in a fic; I'm just venting out loud for the goals I've set for this series.)
> 
> The events of Season 3 also look like they will make what I have planned for the series pale in comparison. For what I have mapped out for this series, it won't actually cross into the timeline in which Season 3 begins, and that is both a blessing and a curse. Of course, we won't know until the 23rd, but I think I might be able to mash together some type of continuity with the works to follow this series and season 3. *shrugs*
> 
> Anyway, enough about that. This part of the series is going to have some major angst. And it will touch directly on thoughts of suicide as typical of canon. But--no one will die. I just want to get that out there. I'm aware of the controversy of this show, but I really feel like it saved me, so I wanted to give something back.

Justin couldn’t breathe.

Clay looked at him for only a moment longer before gazing back down at the floor, at the needle and syringe and baggie of pills just in front of the boy’s knees. His faint sniffles were the only sounds in the room as he began to rub with his palm the tears from his eyes.

“I can explain,” Justin tried to say, but there was barely any air in his lungs.

An awful sound escaped Clay, almost like a laugh. “Really, Justin,” he uttered, shaking his head, “what is there to explain?”

Justin managed a step towards the boy. “I, I was weaning myself off—”

Clay shot up from the floor in terrifying speed, making Justin cringe. “You fucking _lied _to me!” Jensen hissed. He covered his eyes with his palms again before balling his hands into fists around his temples. “I _told you_ not to bring this shit into the house again and you…” When Clay trailed off, he let out a frustrated groan. Then he snarled, _“How could you?”_

It was still hard to breathe, and Justin’s vision began to blur as he tried to blink the tears from his eyes. “I’m—so sorry,” he cried, “I’m so fucking sorry, Clay. Please—”

“How long?” Clay interrupted, sniffling as he rubbed away more tears from his cheeks.

Swallowing, Justin replied, “The day I got out. Hannah’s wake.”

The boy contorted his face once more, shutting his eyes and pressing his hands to his temples again. “Oh my fucking god,” Clay sighed. “So you were fucking _clean _for a _month?”_

Justin felt his chin trembling. “Yes.”

“And the day you got out,” Clay went on, trying to keep his voice low, “you _fucking _score? _How?”_ Jensen started to pace. “My mom went and got you straight from there—how the _hell?”_

Justin clutched his arm, trying to still himself. “I got it—while I was still inside.” As tears started to fall down his cheeks, he sniffled, trying desperately to keep from sobbing.

Clay paced for a moment longer before stopping in front of Justin. “Where?” the boy demanded. “Where are you sticking the needle?”

Curling his toes, Justin hung his head, and rubbed his eyes as a teardrop hit the floor. “Between my toes,” he uttered.

“When did you last use?” Clay pressed.

Justin swallowed, keeping his gaze towards the floor. “Yesterday,” he whispered. “Morning.”

“Jesus Christ,” the boy hissed. “You mean—when I was in the fucking _shower?”_

A sob escaped Justin, and he could no longer stem the tears. “Yes,” he croaked.

When Clay fell silent, Justin looked up to see Jensen with his back turned towards him, his face buried in his hands. Justin wanted nothing more at that moment than to close the gap between them, to fall to his knees—to beg for his boyfriend’s forgiveness—but when he reached for Clay, the boy spun away from him, and Justin felt like he’d been stabbed.

_“Don’t_—fucking touch me, Justin,” Clay warned. “I’m—I’m _so _fucking angry at you right now, I can’t…”

“Clay, please,” Justin begged, not bothering to wipe away the tears any longer, “let me explain.”

The boy merely shook his head and started for the door. Justin leapt before him to cut him off, and held up his hands to try to calm him.

Clay shut his eyes and inhaled a deep breath. “Justin. Get out of my fucking way.”

“Where are you going?” Justin pleaded.

Jensen opened his eyes. His glare was worse than the lack of eye contact, and it pierced Justin like a cold knife.

“Get out of my way.”

When Clay tried to step around him, Justin grabbed Clay’s hand. Although the boy tried to shake him off, Justin didn’t let go, and he let himself fall to his knees.

“No!” Justin cried out, his chest beginning to convulse. “Please—_please_, Clay,” he sobbed, “don’t tell your parents. I love you—please don’t send me away! I’ll do anything—I’ll do _anything! _Please, Clay…”

When Clay finally freed his hand, Justin gazed back up at him. His boyfriend’s expression seemed to soften—but only just.

“I’m,” the boy began, “I need a fucking shower.” He looked towards the door. “Don’t, don’t do anything.”

Jensen opened the door, stepped out of the room, and shut the door behind him. Justin let the sobs overtake him, and he curled into a ball before the door as he cried into the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short prologue of sorts, as the timing of things has compelled me to start posting this earlier than I wanted to. I suppose I shouldn't really care about that kind of thing, but I do. This part of the series definitely won't be done before the new season drops, but alas, let's try to enjoy this window of relative serenity before all hell breaks loose in season 3, no? lol


	2. Level

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin tries to explain himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeek, I have to admit I've been slightly procrastinating on this. That, and counting down the days to the 23rd...

It was over. It was all over.

Justin couldn’t stop the thought from looping in his mind over and over again. As he lay on the floor, bawling, convulsing with guilt over everything wrong he’d ever done in his life, he started to count down the seconds to when the door would open again—and Clay would reappear with his parents behind him. They’d drag him downstairs to Deputy Standall, who’d then stick him in the back of his police cruiser and then drive him back to jail. Juvie. Whatever. The end.

The end of everything that could have been so fucking good with him and Clay. Who was Justin kidding? He knew it the moment he saw the boy’s face when he’d walked into the room—Clay was devastated. Utterly betrayed. He’d never trust Justin again after this. And without trust, what else could they possibly have?

After a while, when he simply couldn’t cry anymore, Justin sat upright off the floor but brought his knees to his chest, hung his head towards his lap, and hugged his elbows around his shins—the timeout position from kindergarten—so that he could remain as small as possible. He wanted the floor to swallow him up and just drag him down to hell where he belonged.

Clay was taking a long time in the shower. It was the longest Justin had ever known the boy to take. Had he been doing the same as Justin, crying in the shower? The thought ripped another sob from Justin, who wanted nothing more than to go back to his cell all that time ago and flush the pills Ren had given him down the fucking toilet.

Justin looked over at his gear on the floor across the room. He couldn’t stop trembling. As much as he despised himself for feeling it—as much as he hated himself for doing this to Clay—the thought of a hit at that moment made Justin shudder with the anticipation of another incredible rush of relief. As fucked up as it was, another hit would at least make everything better. A lot better.

He wrenched his head away. God, was he pathetic. But damn, the urge—the craving—was so fucking strong. He’d never wanted to shoot up so much in his life. Maybe this time he should just use all the rest in one go and get it over with.

Justin looked back over to find Hannah sitting on the floor beside him and he jolted.

“Don’t even think about it, asshole,” she said.

The doorknob turned and Justin barely had a second to move before the door nearly swung into him. Clay appeared, dressed in his pajama wear again, and he peered down at Justin.

“Jesus,” Clay sighed, his expression still grave. Justin quickly stood up and moved out of the way fully for him. “I,” the boy went on, “I didn’t mean it literally—when I said, ‘don’t do anything.’”

Clay’s eyes were still red. Justin felt his throat spasm once more, but he managed to meet the boy’s gaze. “What are you going to do?”

Sighing, and shaking his head, Clay made for the couch and let himself fall into one of the cushions. As he gazed at the floor, he said, “I don’t know.”

Nearly every nerve inside of Justin was screaming that his next hit was just behind him, but he managed to keep his eyes forward towards Clay. After taking a deep breath, Justin inched towards the boy, then slowly knelt before him. As Jensen kept his head down, Justin gradually slid his head over Clay’s lap and grasped the boy’s knees tightly.

“I love you so much,” Justin whispered, and Clay made a pained noise. “I’ve never felt for anyone like I feel for you,” Justin continued. “Please don’t send me away.”

Sniffling, Clay cleared his throat, before letting a small cry escape him. Gradually, Justin felt the boy touch him behind his neck, and the relief that surged through Justin as the boy held onto him was almost enough to quell the internal screams for another hit.

Almost.

“I know,” Clay uttered. “I’m not.”

It was Justin’s turn for a sob to escape him, and he grabbed onto the boy more tightly. “I’m so fucking sorry,” he breathed. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

For a moment, they both seemed to cry together. Then, after a while, the boy uttered, “Why, Justin? _Why?”_

Justin began shaking his head into Clay’s lap. “I’m—I’m weak,” he wept. “I’m—I’m not as strong as you.” Justin felt his chest spasm. “I’ve, I’ve always been weak…” _Hannah. Jessica._

And now Clay.

A voice called from downstairs. Matt. It was long past time for breakfast.

Neither of them made a move, however. After a moment, Clay said, “You’re shaking.” Justin let out another cry. The boy went on, “How, how long have you been going between—um, doses?”

“Every other day,” Justin replied in a whisper, “at first. I’ve—I’ve been trying to use less. So now, every day.”

“Am I that stupid?” Clay asked. “To not notice you high?”

Justin shook his head. “I haven’t been getting high. I swear to you.” He gazed up at Clay. “I’ve, I’ve only been using enough—to level out.”

As Clay looked back at him, his expression seemed to harden. “You need another dose now, don’t you?”

Despite wanting to shake his head, Justin felt his neck lock, and he could only let his eyes fall back down towards the boy’s knees. Justin drew in another breath before admitting, “Yes.”

“Do you want another dose?”

Finally, Justin managed to shake his head. “Tell me not to, and I won’t.”

A pause. “That’s not what I asked.”

Justin felt another tear fall down his cheek as he looked back at Clay. “Yes. But—”

Clay let go of him and looked away before pushing Justin back. “Do it, then,” the boy spat, standing.

“Clay, wait,” Justin began, feeling his heart finally shatter completely.

“Get back to level,” Jensen interrupted, turning away from him. “I’m going downstairs. I’ll stall for you,” he continued, making for the door. “Come down when you’re _level_ again.”

Jensen had opened the door and was out of the room before Justin could say anything else. As he felt the hole in his core widen, he looked over towards his gear only to see Hannah sitting on the floor once more.

“Justin—you don’t fail this test until you stick that needle in you again.”

As a surge of anger spilled into the void where his heart used to be, Justin lunged at her, and she vanished before he could blink and he found the syringe in his hands. He opened his bottle, stuck the needle in, and drew back another dose before sticking the needle between his toes and pressing down upon the syringe.

If he couldn’t have anyone, he could at least have this.

~ ~ ~

Justin had only taken around three-quarters of what he’d been taking, but the relief that swelled through him was still enough to stop his trembling. That was the point of weaning off it, wasn’t it? To take less every time?

He rolled his gear back up and stuffed it with the other clothes that had spilled out back into his gym bag before shoving it all under Clay’s bed again. Justin sat on the couch to wait for the craving to subside completely, but as it did, he couldn’t bring himself to get back up, let alone leave the room.

He felt—stable. At least, for the moment, he didn’t feel like he was going to crumble. But did he actually feel level? No, it was impossible. Not when Clay was like this. Not okay. Because of him, Justin.

Maybe—this was the wake-up call he really needed. Maybe they really needed to tell Clay’s parents—so that Justin could get proper help this time.

But was it too soon? Lainie and Matt hadn’t _officially _adopted him yet—Justin’s hearing was still under a month away. Could they really do anything for him under this emergency custody order? Or, would it be what the courts would use to take Justin away for good and to siphon him completely into the system?

Fuck, Justin had really screwed up. Was it ironic that he needed the drugs in his system in order to realize this? Or rather just cruel, cruel fate?

What he knew for sure, at least—he really needed Clay right now. He would know what to do. Justin should have fessed up sooner, yes, but this wasn’t the end. Jensen would see that. He’d know what to do.

Justin continued to wait. As the minutes passed, and Clay hadn’t returned, Justin decided to change out of his sleepwear and dressed in a hoodie and jeans from the boy’s closet in order to kill time and lessen his anxiety. Not long after he sat back down on the couch again did the door reopen.

Clay stepped into the room and shut the door again behind him. His expression cold, the boy regarded him on the couch, but Clay’s eyes, at least, weren’t so red anymore.

“You never came down.”

Justin cleared his throat. “I know.” When Jensen looked over at the cleared floor where Justin’s gym bag had been, Justin went on, “I used again. Before I put it away.”

“I would have guessed that.” The boy shrugged. “You seem normal, now, so.”

Shaking his head, Justin stood up from the couch. “No, Clay,” he began, approaching the boy, “I’m not—normal. The hit helped, yes, but,” he grasped Clay’s arms, “I’m still not okay.”

Clay seemed almost ready to burst into tears again, but shook his head and continued to avert his eyes. “I can’t do this right now, Justin.” He stepped away as Justin let go of him.

When he made for the closet, the boy went on, “I need to clear my head. I—I can’t be around you right now.”

Justin felt his throat prickle once more. “Clay—I, I still plan on weaning off of this—”

The boy flung his hand up towards Justin and snapped, “Shut up. Please.” He pulled a jacket from the closet and slipped it on. “Just—shut up.”

“If, if you want me to go, I’ll go.”

“No,” Clay snapped, shaking his head. “My dad wants to take you to IKEA and get a bed, or whatever, so you have to stay here.”

“Clay—”

“Just go along with it,” the boy interrupted. “You can at least humor him.” He pulled a pair of jeans from the closet and started to slip them on. “It’s probably a good idea, anyway.”

Justin sighed. “Clay, please stay. Don’t go.” He stepped in front of the boy. “Yell, scream at me—whatever you need to do to feel better. Just have it out at me. Don’t run.”

The boy spun towards him. “Are you fucking serious?” Jensen hissed. _“Here?_” He shoved Justin backwards.

Justin let himself fall back. “Wherever,” he insisted. “Please, let’s just go somewhere—talk this through. Or just hit me. Beat me. Whatever—to just take your anger out on me. I fucking deserve it.”

Clay’s face twisted once more and he started to shake his head. “Why _on earth _do you think I would ever—want to do that to you?”

“I’m saying,” Justin began, and took another step back towards the boy before grasping his hand, “this _isn’t _on you, Clay. This is my fault. I hid this from you—on purpose. You couldn’t have done anything different.”

The boy merely shook his head again and blinked another tear from his eye before shoving Justin’s hand away. “I need to clear my head, Justin. I can’t stand to look at you right now.”

He pulled socks and shoes from the closet before making for the door. “Just—fucking act normal,” Clay snapped, yanking the door open before swinging it shut behind him.

Feeling the wind drain from his body, Justin collapsed back on the couch and buried his face in his hands. _Fucked up _was a genuine understatement. Clay wasn’t supposed to run. He was supposed to face this shit head-on. He wasn’t supposed to be afraid. He was supposed to be the one with the plan.

He was broken. Justin had broken him.

He wept.


	3. Äppelkaka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin tries to keep up appearances with Clay's parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've mentioned before that the show has an odd relationship with consumer brands. Try as I might, I don't think there's anything that really compares to the spectacle that is IKEA, so, here we are. A slight break from the angst, I suppose.

Unable to see any alternatives, Justin eventually did as Clay had ordered, but had first taken a moment to try to compose himself before leaving the room. Justin took the stairs slowly, hoping—or perhaps dreading—to see the boy as he descended. The stairs clear, though, and the foyer empty, Justin trekked towards the kitchen. There, he found Clay’s parents at the table, with Matt reading off his tablet and Lainie sipping from her coffee mug.

“Good morning,” Mrs. Jensen greeted with a smile. “It looks like Clay beat you down here today.” She stood to grab a plate from the cupboard.

“Miracles do happen sometimes,” Clay’s dad added.

Justin smiled, then forced a laugh. “Yeah, I—I guess they do.”

He sat at the table, and Mrs. Jensen soon set a glass of orange juice and a plate of eggs, toast, and sausage before him. Although Justin barely had an appetite, he grabbed his knife and started to butter his toast, anyway, before taking a small bite.

“I take it Clay filled you in on our plans for today before he left?” Lainie asked as she began rinsing off plates in the sink.

As Justin looked up from his plate, Matt glanced over at him. “Presuming you feel up to it, of course,” Mr. Jensen added.

“You,” Justin began, “you really don’t have to go out of your way, today. Seriously—I’ve, I’ve been fine with the couch.”

Mrs. Jensen dropped a plate in the dishwasher. “Nonsense. It’ll be our treat, Justin. Besides, that couch came from a yard sale—_years _ago. You deserve something better than a hand-me-down.”

Justin swallowed without any food in his mouth. “Okay, sure,” he said quietly, looking back towards his plate.

He forced himself to eat. After Clay’s mom left the kitchen, Justin realized how slowly he’d been nibbling on his sausage when he noticed Matt continuing to read on his tablet without paying him any attention—or so Justin thought.

“How are you doing this morning, kiddo?”

Justin chewed his sausage for a moment. “I’m okay,” he eventually responded.

“You tired?”

Snorting a brief laugh, Justin said, “Is that another dig at Clay’s couch?”

“If you want it to be,” Matt replied, and shot him a smile. He cleared his throat. “Actually, it was just an honest question.”

“Yesterday was kind of an exhausting day,” Justin said, then took a sip of his orange juice.

“I bet it was. Hopefully—you’ll have less of those from now on.”

After Justin managed to finish off his plate, he stood up to clear the table when Matt stood with him and grabbed their plates, instead. “Don’t sweat, Justin,” Mr. Jensen said, “I’ll take care of that. Why don’t you head up and grab your shoes and we’ll meet back down here in ten?”

Justin did as he was asked. After heading back upstairs, he looked out of the window and gazed down at the driveway. Clay had taken his car. Where could he have gone? Justin glanced over at the desk to grab his phone, but when he picked it up, he realized it was Clay’s. Justin looked over at the bed stand and spotted his own phone, for real. Jensen hadn’t taken his phone with him.

Swallowing the ugly thoughts before they could truly manifest, Justin set Clay’s phone back on the desk, grabbed his own from the bed stand, and made for the closet to get shoes. After slipping them on, Justin went for the door, but stopped for a moment to glance back at the bed—at how it remained unmade—and at his gym bag crammed underneath it, still, with his gear inside.

_Just act normal_, Clay had said. Despite the anxiety burrowing into his gut, Justin tried to find solace in the fact that Clay’s parents had seemed totally normal, at least, before finally leaving the room again to meet them downstairs.

They settled into Matt’s Prius, with Justin in the back seat. After they backed out of the driveway, Justin clasped his hands in his lap and steered his attention mostly out of the window as they drove. He couldn’t help observing Clay’s parents, though, as they alternated between moments of seemingly comfortable silence with NPR playing in the background, light small talk, and brief tidbits of stories from their week they were no doubt keeping track of as they had time to speak to each other—like reading a book over several days.

Justin could tell that they—both seemed to really enjoy being around each other. And they talked to each other. Like, really talked—a far cry from Bryce’s parents. At least from what Justin saw of them whenever they were around, which wasn’t very often. He wondered if Jess’s parents were like the Jensens, too. He liked to think so, but most of the time he and Jess were dating, he’d avoided her parents, largely because he’d been too busy being intimidated by Mr. Davis.

Hearing his name, Justin snapped to, glancing over at Mr. Jensen. “Have I been to IKEA?” Justin guessed.

“Yes,” Matt confirmed, “I believe that was the question.” Justin caught him smiling in the rear-view mirror.

“I haven’t.”

Matt laughed. “Ah hah, so you’re in for an experience, then.”

“Don’t scare him!” Lainie interjected. “IKEA is just a store, Justin.”

“People who haven’t been to IKEA,” Matt insisted, “need to be prepared for it. At least in my humble opinion. We learned that lesson with Clay. Don’t you remember?”

“He was just a little boy,” Lainie said.

“And he hasn’t been back since,” Matt went on.

“We’ve had no reason to bring him back.”

“Because he was traumatized.”

“What happened with Clay?” Justin asked, unable to keep a smile from nudging his cheeks.

Lainie briefly looked towards the back seat. “Clay just got lost for a little bit inside the store, that’s all.”

“The store is built like a maze,” Matt added. “The _intent_—is for you to get lost.”

Justin laughed. “Okay.” He looked over at the empty seat beside him, an ache swelling inside his chest. If the boy had been there, he would have no doubt been fuming, blushing with his arms crossed, as Justin made fun of him for crying in the middle of the IKEA—all in good fun, naturally—before starting to vehemently deny that such a thing had ever occurred. Clay should’ve been there with them at that moment. But he wasn’t.

Because of Justin.

He couldn’t help but think back to when he’d first been found out by the boy’s parents, and how Clay had seemed to—resent, maybe?—Justin’s presence in the house. At least for a little while. _Alt Clay,_ he’d called Justin. He had never meant for anything like that to happen, to ever get between Clay and his family—or to ever take his place—but as Matt pulled into the IKEA parking deck, Justin found it difficult to shove that old, stubborn fear back in its box.

Justin followed the Jensens into the store, remarking at the crowd and the crazy flat escalator near the entrance. It was barely after ten in the morning—how was it already so busy?

As if he’d read Justin’s mind, Matt looked back and said, “We barely beat the rush.”

“Wow,” Justin uttered.

Lainie grabbed a large yellow garbage-bag-looking tote from a giant wire bin near the top of the stairs. Justin looked over to where some people seemed to be diverting off to and saw what seemed to be a dining area.

“Is there like a restaurant in here?” Justin asked.

Matt laughed as Lainie grinned. “Yes,” she replied, “there’s a full kitchen where they serve breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Maybe after we’ll get a slice of _äppelkaka.”_

Justin laughed. _“What?”_ he exclaimed.

“Apple pie,” Matt said, grasping Justin’s shoulder with a grin. “Or more precisely, apple cake.”

As Justin followed them through to what was called The Showroom, he realized all the crazy names he was seeing on everything were actually a foreign language. Swedish. Yes, Justin was not dumb. Not at all slow on the uptake.

As they passed different model rooms, Justin noticed the yellow steps and dashes on the floor, clearly to lead people through the showroom, and many did seem to be following the yellow-dash trail. Many more loitered around the mockups, like Lainie, who seemed set to browse. Matt, on the other hand, looked to know exactly where he was going, so Justin followed him instead, despite his deviation from the yellow trail.

Indeed, there seemed to be shortcuts here and there, with the occasional not-so-visible sign to point them out. He and Matt passed the bedroom showcase to a wide expanse of area dedicated to beds, mattresses, and seating.

“Try out a few of these,” Matt said, gesturing towards the twin beds, “and let me know what you think. There are spring, foam, and hybrid mattresses, so they all can vary quite a bit in firmness. I’ll be back in a little bit. There’s some shelving we passed I wanna take a look at.”

“Okay.”

As he had not seen any shelving along their way to the beds, Justin tried to look where Mr. Jensen was heading, but there were too many people around to keep track of him in the crowd. All the beds around him were presented as a full package and displayed with brightly patterned bedding and sheets. Justin looked past all the weird names and focused on the descriptions (the tags were luckily in plain English) and decided to give the foam mattress a try first.

He sat on the edge of one and exclaimed, “Oh shit!” as he fell backwards into the bed, sinking into the mattress, practically. He sat up quickly and stepped off the bed. No, way too soft.

He tried a few of the other foam mattresses to see if they were all that soft, and although there were ones harder than the first, he didn’t like the feeling of sinking into the mattress. Justin worked his way over to the hybrid mattresses, and while they didn’t sink as much as the foam ones as he sat on them, he lay back, and wondered if he could really get used to the feeling of the mattress partially conforming to him so much.

It did feel slightly tacky to be on the bed so completely, but given how different the rest of the store was, maybe it was exactly what was expected. Justin gazed up at the ceiling, at the industrial bars and framework that supported the lights throughout the store, and wondered—just what the hell was he really doing? Was he really going to go through the motions of letting the Jensens buy him a separate bed, when all he really wanted was to continue to share Clay’s? Was he really going to let them spend all that money on him just to let it go largely unused?

Who was he kidding? Maybe this was why Clay had told him to go along with his parents. Maybe—this was the start of their new normal. Separate beds. Sleeping separately.

Justin hated it, the thought of it. As he swallowed the bitterness creeping up his throat, he thought back to all those nights in juvie, and how he couldn’t fall asleep on that rock of a mattress. No, it wasn’t that, really. It was the loneliness—being apart from Clay. Justin could combat it and get through most of the day all right, for the most part. It were the nights that had sucked royally, combined with his forced sobriety, when he had been unable to keep Clay from his mind, and how the boy had never had a nightmare or whatever whenever Justin was directly beside him.

Is that what they were going back to? Back to the nightmares, or the boy crying himself to sleep? Justin felt his throat prickle as the lights above started to glint. This was all Justin’s fault. Because he was weak. But even if Justin hadn’t relapsed, would Matt and Lainie even be okay with him and Clay sharing a bed if they knew the whole truth? Or maybe they could omit the whole truth, and simply say their cuddling and bed-sharing was platonic?

Justin felt his phone vibrate. It startled him, but he quickly pulled it from his pocket, expecting it to be Clay. Instead, it was a message from Jess.

_so… you figure out date night with clay yet?_

A series of kissy and winking emoji punctuated the end of the message. At that, Justin felt something inside of him crack, and a sob escaped him. Fuck, he was gonna lose it. He was gonna lose it. He drew a sharp inhale and tried really, really hard not to burst into fucking tears—but as he held his breath, another sob escaped him, and he found himself unable to stem the tears flowing past his temples.

“Justin?”

He sprang up, managing to spot through his blurry vision Lainie regarding him with grave concern and Matt just a few steps behind her. Justin frantically tried to rub his tears away with his palms and insisted, “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

She was on the bed, however, before Justin could move away and then she had her arms around him—bringing him close to her—and that was it. Justin was completely gone. Whatever restraint he thought he might conjure was absolutely demolished.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Mrs. Jensen cooed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Justin whispered, unable to stop crying. “I’m okay, really,” he sobbed, “I’m okay.”

Lainie continued to hold him. “Rats,” Matt remarked, “we traumatized another one.”

Justin sniffled. “I’m—I’m not traumatized,” he wept.

He felt a hand grip his shoulder. “I know,” Matt went on. “It’s all right, kiddo.”

After a moment, when Justin realized what a scene he was causing, he managed to stifle the tears. Lainie pulled away from him, and Justin glanced around briefly. To his relief, no one seemed to be paying them any attention.

“Come on,” Lainie said. “Let’s get some _äppelkaka.” _

Despite himself, Justin laughed.

~ ~ ~

“Don’t worry,” Lainie said. “We’ll revisit this another time.”

They’d gone to the dining area, and while Justin and Lainie sat down at a table, Matt went to go through the line and had returned with a whole plate of apple cake. When she reassured Justin, he was grateful she didn’t press the issue, although he was sure she knew there was more to it than just getting a bed.

They shared the apple cake, however, and Justin let them make most of the small talk as they ate. It was another ordeal to check out the various linens Mrs. Jensen had gotten—as every check-out area had long lines streaming from each one—but they eventually made it back to the car for a quiet, somewhat somber ride home.

Once back at the house, the Jensens seemed to perk up, although it was perhaps mainly for Justin’s benefit.

“What’d I tell ya?” Matt said to Justin as they stepped out of the car. “An experience, was it not?”

Justin managed a grin. “Yeah, it—was definitely an experience.”

He patted Justin’s shoulder as they made for the front door, and Lainie said, “Don’t worry. IKEA is an acquired taste.”

Clay’s car was still not back. After they went inside, Justin went upstairs to the boy’s room and settled onto the couch. The realization had been building since breakfast, but as Justin sat—his eyes falling upon the unmade bed and his gym bag beneath it once more—it truly hit him.

Justin loved the Jensens. Not just Clay—his parents, too.

Today had proven just how incredibly understanding and supportive they had been ever since Justin crashed into their lives. He freaked out, they understood, and they let him have his moment before trying to make him feel better with _äppelkaka—_which still made Justin burst out laughing thinking about it.

Obviously, fate would have him realize this right when he was on the verge of losing them completely. Justin could have it so, _so _good with the Jensens. Why did he have to go and fuck it all up?

He rubbed his face, then his eyes, but when the tears didn’t come, Justin remembered Jess’ text and pulled out his phone. _Speaking of another fuck up… _

_Sorry, I was at Ikea with Clay’s parents, haha_  
_No, I haven’t figured out date night yet_

Three dots preceded a near-immediate response. 

_omg you’ve never been to ikea have you??_  
_hahahaha_  
_what did you think?_

_That place is fucking crazy lol_

_lol tell me about it_  
_my mom LOVES that place omg_  
_why’d they bring you there?_

_We were shopping for a bed_  
_For me…_  
_We didn’t end up getting anything_

_omg! where do they think you’re sleeping?_

Justin explained the sleeping situation to her, which didn’t surprise her at all.

_LOL!! and they seriously DON’T KNOW??_  
_HOW have you been keeping this from them???_

_That’s a good question_

Jess brought up that she and Alex were planning on going bowling and if he and Clay were up for a possible double date. It might’ve been a good idea—if Justin hadn’t so royally screwed up.

_Possibly… I’ll let you know_

_k, no worries_

She added a few smiling emoji, plus the name of the bowling alley she and Alex were planning on going to.

Justin looked over at the desk—and realized Clay’s phone was gone. He shot up from the couch to get a better look and make sure he just hadn’t gone blind, and for sure, Clay’s phone was gone. The boy must have come back to get it.

Swapping over to the other thread on his phone, Justin messaged Clay, _Hey, where are you? Can we talk?_

He stared at the screen, waiting for the dots to appear.


	4. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin waits for Clay to come home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Season 3. Oh my God. I have so many thoughts and feelings, it's gonna take me a few days maybe to sort through them all. As I kind of anticipated, the new season has brought new activity to the series and so I really felt the need to update and come clean that it may or may not be a while before I post the next chapters.
> 
> I don't know how long it might be, but I don't think it will be TOO long. There's just so many things I love about the new season that I really want to grapple with how I may or may not rework what I have already done for the series (but not yet published, obviously). Once it's out there, it's out there. Naturally, Justin is the focus, and so I've reshaped things to suit that end, but I also set out to be somewhat faithful to canon to show, I suppose, how "easy" it could for things to be, if that makes any sense.
> 
> I won't go back though, with what I've done with Tyler and Monty, even if that may complicate The Big Hint of Season 4, and take away two pieces of the foundation for season 3. Even if the major events in season 3 won't be in this series, but in a followup series, continuity and detail are still important to me and what I write, heh.
> 
> If you've been following the series already you know what you're in for, lol. But, if you're new to the series and just coming off the heels of season 3, I wanted to get it out there as well that I might suggest you pause at the end of My Kind of Love, or if you must proceed, stop at the penultimate chapter of High Hopes until I'm able to get through the heaviest of angst in this part of the work. The new season is heavy, and if you're like me, you might need a little while to process things.
> 
> Anyway, I love this show, this cast, and I love Justin and Clay. I want the best for these two and I hope I do right by them, and I hope you'll stick with me through this! <3

Humans would be screwed without bees.

At the very least, we’d have to go without nearly all of the food we currently depend on.

Justin had made Clay’s bed and settled atop it before turning on the TV. He channel-surfed for a while, before settling upon one of the public broadcasting stations. A potential crisis of epic proportions seemed to do the trick with occupying Justin’s attention as he waited for Clay to return home.

He clutched his phone, waiting for a response that became decreasingly likely to come with every passing hour. That didn’t stop Justin, though, from obsessively waking it up every few minutes to check for any new notification.

He managed to bring himself to call, but it only went to voicemail after several rings. Clay didn’t have a greeting set up. Just the automated robotic attendant requesting that he leave a message. Justin composed and erased several texts to him as well, only sending one more after the potential bee apocalypse on TV ended: _Please come home._

With no indication of any forthcoming response, Justin grabbed the TV remote and starting flipping through channels once more. As he suspected, Saturday afternoon programming seemed to be a dead zone for intellectual stimulation.

After letting the TV come to a stop on some black-and-white movie or show, Justin woke his phone up again and decided to stalk Clay’s Facebook page. The boy never used it, so Justin wasn’t expecting any clues to his whereabouts, but he found himself scrolling down Jensen’s timeline anyway, as if it might somehow lessen the loneliness he felt looming around him. In spite of where Justin was now, without Clay there with him—the room had never felt emptier.

Justin could only scroll for a few minutes before bringing up his messages once more. He stared at the keyboard and blinking cursor, willing for those three dots to appear. He tapped and erased a few more words before he put the phone back to sleep, only to wake it back up and take one last shot in the dark.

_I need you. Please._

“Kind of a cheap shot, don’t you think?”

He looked up to see Hannah on the couch.

“You’re one to judge,” Justin retorted.

“So are you.”

Justin looked back at his phone—and he could have sworn he saw the thread slide up and the three dots appear—but they vanished as quickly as they’d come, leaving all the messages to crash back down towards the bottom of the screen.

Hannah appeared beside him to peer at the screen with him. “He’s checking his phone,” she remarked.

As Justin waited—and as no response came—he finally said, “Clay must have started typing by mistake.”

Hannah stood up from the bed. “He obviously wants his space.” She turned to look at Justin. “Why can’t you give him that, at least?”

“If he really wanted that, I should’ve been the one to leave. Not him.”

Shaking her head, Hannah said, “You still don’t get it, do you?”

Justin looked back toward the TV and grabbed the remote to flip through some more channels. “Whatever,” he spat.

He jolted when there was a knock on the door and Hannah vanished. “Justin?” Mrs. Jensen.

“Yeah?” Justin called.

The door opened, and Lainie peeked from behind it, smiling warmly. “How are you?”

Justin managed a small smile back at her. “I’m okay.”

“Clay mentioned he would be home soon.” At that, Justin couldn’t help his chest from hitching. Lainie went on, “Matt and I have dinner plans this evening. I prepared leftovers for you and Clay in the fridge. Just unwrap it—leave it covered—and microwave for four-and-a-half minutes.”

Despite himself, Justin started to grin. “Date night?”

Lainie’s smile widened. “Something like that.”

Justin began nodding. “Cool.”

“If either of you need anything, just call.”

Shaking his head, Justin replied with a grin, “We’re big boys. I’m sure we’ll manage.”

“I’m sure you will,” Lainie said, nodding, before closing the door.

Justin looked to see Hannah sitting back at the foot of the bed, looking towards the TV. “That could’ve been your double date,” she said. “You and Clay. Telling his parents together.”

Feeling his throat prickle, Justin swallowed. “I know.”

~ ~ ~

Justin watched Clay’s parents leave a short while later. As he gazed down at them through the window, Mrs. Jensen in a dark skirt and fancy white blouse with Mr. Jensen in slacks and a blazer, they seemed almost giddy as they got into their Prius, like they’d been waiting for this night for weeks.

As he thought more about it, though, Justin realized it was probably more spontaneous than that. He couldn’t imagine—with their luck lately, at least—the Jensens being able to plan something like this for themselves so far in advance. Which was probably why they were so happy to get out. In any case—Clay’s parents deserved it. A night for themselves.

After watching them drive off, Justin turned back towards the TV droning on in the background and walked over to the remote to shut it off. As silence overtook the room, he couldn’t bear to think of himself entirely alone in the house—or alone in Clay’s room with temptation still lurking beneath the bed—so he made for the door and went downstairs.

Soon realizing the rest of the house was far too quiet as well, Justin opted for the den, switching on the TV in there and settling onto the couch. At least here, he would see Clay come in. Feeling exhaustion set in, even though he’d done nothing for most of the day, Justin lay across the couch in hopes of dozing off and being woken up when Clay finally walked through the front door.

As the nightly news flashed and played on the television before him, Justin soon got his wish, hearing the front door open like church bells ringing inside of his head. He sat up, switching off the TV, and gazed towards the front door just in time to see Clay finally appear before him.

“Clay,” Justin uttered.

“Justin,” the boy intoned, not looking back at him as he made for the stairs.

“Clay,” Justin repeated, standing to meet him, “wait.”

Jensen had his foot on the first step of the stairwell as he stopped and looked at Justin. Sighing, he said, “What?”

Swallowing, Justin froze, unable to handle the look of defeat and exhaustion on his—boyfriend’s face. But, Justin forced himself to speak. “Your, your mom—has leftovers in the fridge. For you.”

“I’m not hungry,” the boy said, and started walking up the steps.

“W-wait,” Justin stammered, taking a few steps up towards the boy, “have—have you had anything to eat?”

Jensen ignored him and continued up the stairs. Justin lingered on the steps, spending a moment glancing between Clay’s room and the kitchen. After a pained moment of indecision, Justin stepped down and around the stairwell to make for the kitchen. He opened the fridge, found the container of leftover lasagna, and unwrapped the plastic wrap from it before popping it in the microwave. It took him a second to figure out how to do four-and-a-half minutes instead of just four or five minutes, but Justin eventually managed to get it going.

As he watched the container rotate inside of the microwave, Justin listened to it hum, the sound filling the kitchen. And perhaps the entire house, too. Not that the microwave was loud—but because the rest of the house was so quiet. It wasn’t long before the smell of the lasagna spread throughout the kitchen, piquing Justin’s appetite, and once the timer was up, he went to grab plates—taking him more than one try, though, to find the right cupboard.

Justin opened the microwave and set the container on the counter before removing the lid. As a puff of steam escaped it, the lasagna Mrs. Jensen had portioned out looked to be enough for both him and Clay. Justin found forks (he knew where those were, at least, finding them on the first try) and a spatula to serve the lasagna. Once the portions were plated, Justin took a plate in each hand before making for the stairwell.

He wasn’t sure why he was being so self-conscious about reheating the damn lasagna. It wasn’t rocket science. Yet, as he ascended the stairs, he thought back to all the times Clay had to surreptitiously prepare food for him, and Justin realized—maybe this was just a taste of how the boy had felt all those times. Perhaps this was karma for Justin.

What was definitely karma was figuring out how to open the door with his hands full. Thinking Clay wouldn’t answer if he knocked, Justin managed to balance one of the plates atop the crook of his arm before stepping inside the boy’s room. He found Clay lying on the couch facing away from the door. Shutting it behind him, Justin then set the plates on the coffee table before taking a seat on the floor.

For a while, Clay didn’t move. Eventually, Justin said, “If you won’t eat, I won’t eat.”

He heard Jensen take a deep breath before gradually sitting up. With the action, he heard Clay’s stomach rumble, but didn’t say anything as the boy reached for the plate and took it in his lap. He grabbed the fork, but paused to look up at Justin, who then slid the other plate closer to the edge of the coffee table. Once Justin took his fork, they started to eat.

The lasagna was still pretty fucking good. Justin tried to pace himself, as Clay seemed reluctant to eat at first, too, but quickly let go of any pretense of stubbornness. Justin quickly realized his mistake, though, and stood up, saying, “I’ll get us some water.”

“Justin,” Clay called, shaking his head, “it’s fine.”

He looked back at the boy as he continued to eat his lasagna. After another moment of indecision, Justin opened the door and made his way downstairs to get water for them. He filled two glasses from the tap, then went back upstairs. Having left the door open, Justin made the return to Clay’s room much easier.

After closing off the room once more, Justin found the boy nearly finished with his portion. _So much for not being hungry, _he almost said, but decided to keep it to himself as he set the glasses on the coffee table and sat back down on the floor.

They ate in silence for the rest of their meal. Clay finished first, and once Justin was done, he took the boy’s plate and returned downstairs to clean up the kitchen. Luckily, there seemed to be room in the dishwasher, because he wasn’t sure if he would be able to figure that thing out without screwing it up.

When Justin returned upstairs, he heard water running in the bathroom, and it sounded like Clay was showering. He went on to the boy’s room before spotting Jensen’s near-empty water glass, and decided to take their glasses down to the kitchen, too. After making another trek back up the stairs, the bathroom was free, so Justin seized the moment to brush his teeth and shower—desperate to hang onto any shred of normalcy for the evening.

Justin wrapped a towel around himself before stepping into the hallway, his clothes in hand. With only the desk light left on, he found Clay in bed—in the middle of the bed—underneath the covers and with his back to the door, when Justin returned to the room. Despite his best efforts, the door still seemed to be offensively loud when he shut it this time, and his footsteps seemed to echo throughout the room as he gingerly made his way to the closet to retrieve a shirt and fresh pair of underwear.

It was barely even nine o’clock. Way too early for bedtime, even for Clay. After dressing himself, Justin slowly stepped towards the bed and carefully sat on the very edge of it as Clay remained perfectly still. Justin waited.

Eventually, he said, “I take it—you don’t want to give this, this angry cuddling thing a shot?”

“No,” Clay uttered.

Justin sighed. “Are we—not gonna talk, at least?” The boy didn’t respond. “Clay,” Justin went on, “this—not talking—is the worst. Please. Don’t—don’t give me the silent treatment.”

A sigh. “I’m tired, Justin. Just—just go to sleep.”

Feeling the back of his throat sting, Justin stood up from the bed, unable to stop his face from contorting. He walked back to the closet and found his old blanket as tears starting falling down his cheeks. He then shut off the desk light, managing to keep himself from audibly sobbing before settling on the couch and spreading the blanket over himself.

They were really broken. They weren’t coming back from this.

~ ~ ~

Justin awoke to the sound of Clay’s mumbles. He peered across the room over at the bed, barely able to make out the boy in the moonlight. Jensen was shuffling back and forth beneath the covers, murmuring to himself in the darkness.

Steering his attention towards the ceiling, Justin could only guess the time. It felt wrong—ignoring Clay—but Justin had no idea what else he could do. Not when he, himself, was the very cause of the boy’s pain.

Clay’s distress only seemed to worsen as time went on. Soon, his murmurs turned to moans—then very apparent sobs. Apparent, at least, in the utter silence of the room. Clay was having a nightmare. And he was crying in his sleep.

Justin could taste his own tears as he swallowed, desperate to contain the excruciating guilt from exploding inside of his chest. How could he fucking do this? Was he really going to sit by—_again—_and do _nothing?_

He flung the blanket off himself and sprang across the room, kneeling over the bed before grasping Clay by the shoulders.

“Clay,” Justin called quietly, “Clay, wake up.”

The boy was swinging his head from side to side, and the more he moaned, the more it sounded like he was saying _no._ Justin persisted, and tried to gently shake the boy awake. “Clay, it’s all right. Wake up!”

Clay sprung upwards, finally, gasping for air as Justin moved out of the way for him. The boy continued to shake as he tried to catch his breath, and Justin could see the sweat glistening on his forehead before shifting and sitting along the edge of the bed. It was a moment before Jensen seemed to come to, when he finally turned to gape at Justin.

“Justin?”

He grasped the boy’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Clay. You’re okay. Everything’s okay.”

Slowly, Clay started shaking his head as his face started to twist in anguish. “You fucking asshole,” he whispered, shoving Justin backwards.

It was a hard shove, but not enough to knock him off the bed. Justin braced for it, and Clay tried to push him away again before breaking down in tears.

Justin held onto him in spite of the shoves before bringing the boy into his arms, and he embraced him tightly as Clay continued to sob.

“I’m so sorry,” Justin breathed, letting his own tears fall. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

He prompted Clay to lie down, and the boy didn’t seem to fight him as they lay back against the bed. As Jensen only seemed to hold onto him more tightly, Justin managed, despite his better judgment, to get the covers around them while the boy continued to sob beside him.

Justin could not think of anything else to say, so he simply held the boy as his cries gradually quieted, and his trembling eventually stilled.

~ ~ ~

Panic jolted Justin awake. It was still dark, he was on his back, and after a split-second of disorientation, realized he was on Clay’s bed. He still had the covers on him and quickly looked over to see Clay still beside him, albeit on his side and turned away from Justin. He then looked over to see the blanket bunched up on one side of the couch.

Justin wasn’t supposed to be there.

As gently as he could, Justin lifted the covers off himself and reached for his phone on the night stand. It was six-thirty. Dawn was barely starting to creep in through the window.

He slowly got off the bed and tiptoed towards the closet. He pulled on jeans, a hoodie, and shoes before glancing over at the door, then at the window. Justin didn’t actually know how early the Jensens woke up in the morning. There was a good chance one of them might already be downstairs.

Looking back at the bed, Justin could almost hear the boy’s steady breathing, which verged on the occasional snore. As he lay on the bed, Clay was obviously still fast asleep.

Justin grabbed his phone from the night stand, gradually pulled his gym bag from under the bed, and quietly went over to the window before lifting it open. Sticking his bag through first, he stepped out onto the roof before slowly sliding it shut behind him, then carefully stepped over to the side of the roof. He dropped his bag on the ground, which made an audible _thud_ when it hit the ground, before leaping down after it onto the grass below. Luckily, all the practice from Jess’s roof paid off.

He walked over to the sidewalk, but slowly came to a stop before he could get very far down the street. Turning around and looking back at the house, Justin started to cry as he was gripped by an intense swell of remorse.

While attempting to wipe and blink the tears away, Justin looked to see Hannah suddenly beside him, shaking her head.

“Don’t do this, Justin. Not again.”

Sniffling, he turned away from the house and continued down the sidewalk.


	5. The Photograph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin revisits an old memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next are probably the heaviest this part of the series will get in terms of angst. Maybe!! I haven't written far enough to the end of this part to know for sure yet, lol. I've been sitting on these few chapters for a while, I guess, because I want these boys to be happy... :'(

It was maybe a forty-five minute trek to Rosie’s on foot. Justin stepped inside to see a few people already spread out between the bar and a couple of booths, so he used the opportunity to make straight for the bathroom. After shutting the door and locking it behind him, Justin closed the toilet lid and sat before dropping his bag on the floor. His hands trembling as he undid the zipper, Justin took a moment to collect himself.

“Why does this seem terribly familiar?” Hannah asked, leaning against the sink.

Justin ignored her as he unwrapped his gear and drew another dose with the syringe.

“Oh, right,” she went on, “this is you making a bad decision—all over again.”

Once he’d drawn an amount slightly less than the last (he was pretty sure), Justin pulled off his shoe and sock and injected himself. Drawing in a sharp breath as chills surged through his bloodstream, he took another moment to steady himself before looking back towards the sink. Hannah was gone.

He put his shoe back on and packed up his gear again. Hesitating as he looked himself in the mirror, a crazy idea struck him, and he decided to run with it: why not—brush his teeth?

Justin still had his old toothbrush packed away in his bag. Back from when he was out on the streets. He rarely ever had a chance to use it, so it was still—relatively clean. After squirting a generous gob of toothpaste onto the brush, Justin found that the resulting excess helped mask any musty taste that might have lingered.

He brushed quickly, hoping no one was outside waiting to use the bathroom. He wanted to hang onto something—even if it was something as small and futile as oral hygiene. Honestly, he would have liked to have sneaked a granola bar or something from the kitchen on the way out of the house. If only he hadn’t been afraid of getting caught.

Justin wasn’t really sure what he was doing. He just—saw a way out. And he took it. It seemed far, far easier than still being there when Jensen woke up—and seeing the regret on the boy’s face again from having ever pulled Justin off the streets.

There was a knock on the door. Justin spit and quickly shouted, “I’m almost done!” before rinsing out his mouth with handfuls of water. He fanned his toothbrush rapidly to dry it off and hurriedly wiped his hands dry from the paper towel dispenser. He shoved everything back in his bag, then opened the door. Justin spotted an old man on the other side, and tried to ignore his judgmental look while sidestepping him and going back towards the bar.

Justin still didn’t know what he was doing, so he tried to follow what he felt might pass as a script for normal. Although he’d been there enough to know the full menu, Justin pretended to study it on the counter until the server approached him. When she finally did, he asked her for the basic breakfast—scrambled eggs, sausage, toast, and hash browns—with a waffle on the side, plus OJ.

As he waited, Justin pulled his phone from his pocket. Nothing. And his battery was in the red—below twenty percent. He forgot to plug it in to charge yesterday.

“It’s still early,” Hannah said, appearing on the bar stool beside him. “Clay’s probably not awake yet. You should turn it off to save the battery.”

He didn’t acknowledge her, but held down the power button and swiped across the screen to shut it off. Instead of putting it back in his pocket, he brought it to his ear.

“Why are you still here?” Justin asked her.

Hannah forced a brief laugh. “I think you’ve figured this out by now, Justin.”

“Leave me alone.”

“No, asshole. Clay is gonna wake up, and he’s gonna freak out when you’re not there.”

Justin kept his eyes towards the counter. “He would’ve freaked out if I _was_ still there.”

Hannah scoffed. “If I could hit you, I would. You _know _that’s bull.”

Justin shook his head. “You saw the way he looked at me last night. You saw what I was doing to him in his nightmares.”

“You’re just rationalizing,” Hannah pressed. “This is what you always do. What happened to things being different—this time?”

The server set his plates of breakfast and waffle before Justin, followed by his orange juice. He glanced up and thanked her before unwrapping his utensils and started to eat. He tilted his head towards his shoulder to keep his phone beside his ear.

“I fucked up,” Justin sighed. “He’s not going to forgive me.”

“You don’t know that,” Hannah said. “If you really believed that, why’d you bring your phone?”

Justin took a sip of his orange juice. “Because—he at least deserves a goodbye. And so I don’t get kicked out of this place for talking to a ghost.”

He set the phone face down on the counter as Hannah groaned. “Clay’s not gonna give up on you. I’m pretty sure you know that.”

_Maybe he should_. Justin took a bite of his sausage, ignoring Hannah. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her continue to stare at him, however, and he soon felt the back of his neck start to burn.

“You love him,” Hannah said. “That’s worth fighting for.”

Justin continued his meal in silence. If anything, he was probably saving Clay. Hannah should’ve known what happened to the people Justin loved.

~ ~ ~

He paid for his meal in cash, leaving a tip almost enough to cover the whole meal twice. Justin hoped it was enough to make it up to the server in case she heard any of his crazy. The wad of cash he’d stolen from Seth didn’t have anything smaller than a twenty.

After leaving Rosie’s, Justin quickly walked off the lot, not wanting to linger around a place so public. Because he had no idea where he was going next, though, he slowed his pace considerably once the diner was out of sight.

He walked for a while as the sunlight gradually brightened. The sky was overcast, and the wind chilly, which prompted Justin to raise his hood over his head. He had a vague sense of where he was as he neared the next street corner, but he stopped as he noticed a tall, familiar landmark in the distance.

“The theater’s not open until noon,” Hannah remarked, standing beside him.

Justin glanced at her briefly before looking back towards the tall Crestmont sign on the horizon. “Maybe I could sneak in,” Justin said.

“You probably could,” Hannah confirmed. “Security was pretty much nonexistent over there.”

Justin resumed walking, reminded of another place he might head to.

“Oh, come on,” Hannah said, catching up to him. “Why would you wanna go there?”

“You had a thing for the water, didn’t you?”

“Allegedly,” Hannah scoffed. “If you’re gonna believe Bryce’s version of things.”

“I don’t.”

“So go home.”

“I don’t have one.”

Hannah stepped ahead of Justin, stopping him. “Asshole. Yes—you do.”

Justin stepped around her and kept on walking. “Not anymore.”

He continued to walk for some time, putting the Crestmont behind him. The streets were essentially dead, but as he left the suburbs and crossed into the city, there was more traffic on the roads, but not much more, given that it was still an early Sunday morning. It warmed up (or maybe it was from all the walking), prompting Justin to lower his hood. He hadn’t seriously considered being recognized in this part of town until there was a red sedan that drove past him, stopped—and started to reverse.

Justin tried to keep walking and played it cool, but terror spiked within him, making his skin burn beneath his hoodie. The car stopped beside him as the passenger window started to roll down. There was a baby seat in the backseat.

“Justin?”

He peered into the car, recognizing the voice before spotting the guy’s face, which was now clean-shaven—and no longer covered by a goatee.

“Ren?”

“Holy hell, Batman,” Ren remarked, laughing. “Justin, is that really you?”

Justin approached the car, forcing a brief laugh. “Yeah, man, yeah—it’s really me!”

“What are you doing out here?” Ren went on. “Don’t tell me—you’re fucking homeless.”

Forcing another laugh, Justin grabbed the back of his neck. “Nah, dude, I’m not! I just,” he glanced beyond the car, pretending to look around, “I, I—actually spent the night at a girl’s house.” He grinned, and chuckled. “Her dad, uh, came home much earlier than he was supposed to and—well, that’s a story for another time.”

Ren laughed. “Fuck, _hermano,_ you think you’d at least _try _and stay out of trouble?”

“I have!” Justin insisted, shaking his head. “Mostly!” He grinned. “What—what about you? Obviously, you’re out. Congrats, man!”

“Thanks, _ese.”_

“Since when?”

“It’s been a few days.” Ren gestured towards the backseat. “I’m picking up my sister before we head to church, but, can I give you a lift somewhere? We’re not pressed for time, and this little one is a heavy sleeper.”

“Is that, is that her? Your niece?”

“_Si, señor_. She might wake up by the time I drop you off, if you want a chance to hold her.”

Justin shook his head. “Thanks, I—I really appreciate it, but it’s okay. I’m, I’m not far from where I’m staying, and—”

“You staying with your mom?”

Shaking his head again, Justin replied, “No. I’m actually staying with…” He had to swallow. “With a friend.”

Ren nodded. “Okay, _hermano,_ if you insist. But—I’d be remiss if we didn’t get a chance to catch up.” He pulled out his phone. “You got digits?”

Justin reached for his pocket, but pretended it was empty despite feeling his phone through the denim. “Shit,” he sighed, “I must have left my phone at her house. It’s a new number, and I don’t know what it is yet off the top of my head.”

Ren shook his head, laughing. “Justin, my dude_,_ you sound like a hot mess!” He popped open the glove compartment and pulled out a piece of paper along with a pen from his pocket. “I take it you have not—partaken in the advice I last gave you. Or else my guy would’ve heard from you by now.”

Nodding slowly, Justin said, “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Good,” Ren said, writing on the piece of paper on his thigh. “I respect that.” He handed the paper to Justin, who accepted it. “Text me sometime. We’ll hang out. And I promise I’ll try to be a better influence on you!”

They laughed. “Sure,” Justin said, nodding, “sounds good.”

Ren offered his fist, and they fist-bumped goodbye before Ren drove away. As Justin put the paper in his pocket, he found Hannah beside him once more.

“He’s the one that got you in this mess in the first place,” she remarked. “Sure you wanna keep that relationship going?”

Justin resumed walking. “If he hadn’t—you wouldn’t be in my head now, would you?”

“Jury’s still out on that one,” Hannah said, walking beside him.

~ ~ ~

It wasn’t much further of a walk before Justin neared the quiet hum of seawater churning against the wind. After crossing over the docks, then stepping out onto the shoreline, Justin neared the edge of one of the platforms and dropped his bag beside him before taking a seat to rest. He looked out onto the ocean, taking in the sound of the water lapping around him, and tried to look past the last few times he had been there—to the reason why he felt drawn here in the first place.

If Justin were to drop the good memories of his mother on one side of a scale and the bad ones on the other, you’d think the bad side would fall towards the earth like an anchor flung free into the water. Yet, as Justin tried to objectively quantify them, the bad memories did not readily come to him. Perhaps that was just what the mind did, protect us from trauma, and instead—left the scales inexplicably balanced.

The earliest memories he had of his mother, of just the two of them, involved the water. The beach. He was probably still a toddler, or just barely able to walk, but he could remember the ocean and the sand beneath his feet, the sound of the sea all around him, and the seemingly colossal waves that washed up on the shore. Of course, they only seemed so big, probably, because he was so small.

That was the most he could ever remember. Only being there with her. Nothing of what she said, or what they did; just that they had simply—_been_. Justin might have completely chalked it up to his imagination had he not had actual, physical evidence of this occurrence: a photograph.

Justin unzipped one of the end pockets of his gym bag and dug around towards the bottom, with only one eye really trained on what he was looking for. He half-hoped not to find it, but alas, he felt the smooth edge of it brush against his fingertips before slipping it out of the bag.

The small photograph was in better shape than it had any right to be in. Although it was worn around the edges, it wasn’t peeling, and while it wasn’t completely flat, it had avoided any major creases or wrinkles despite being at the bottom of his bag for all these months. The photo was of his mother squatting on the beach, her knees on the sand, the shoreline in the background behind her. She was holding him—propping him up, really—just beyond her knees, his arms raised and seemingly flailing about, as if ready to scurry towards, perhaps, the person behind the camera. Toddler Justin’s attention, whether by luck or intent, was focused right at the lens, right at you. His mother, in the picture, was looking towards baby him.

She wasn’t in a bikini, but in jeans and a white blouse, and also had on a large beach or sun hat on with sunglasses propped up on the brim. Despite that, however, her face was clearly visible from the camera angle, and there was no mistaking her. Justin was in bright red toddler shorts and nothing else.

Well, objectively, there was no mistaking her, but for Justin, the woman in the photograph was someone he did not recognize. What did it for him, really, was that—they both had huge grins on their faces, as if in laughter.

It was a frustrating picture. If a photo was supposed to offer a thousand words, all this one gifted were a thousand questions. Where was this? Who were they with? When was this taken? Who was behind the camera? Why did his mother keep this?

It was a picture he had found before the first time he’d run away, after admitting to Jessica what Bryce had done to her. Justin found it as he searched his mother’s place for cash to take with him, buried beneath pill bottles and piles of envelopes and other junk within a drawer inside his mother’s nightstand. There were almost no pictures in the house and she wasn’t a sentimental person, or so Justin had thought. He would have kept those early memories of the beach behind the veil of his imagination had it not been for that one photo.

Justin took the photo with him, but it was never something he had ever dwelled on, even when he was on the streets. Objectively, it didn’t outweigh all the bad memories of his mother his mind kept from him, nor did it excuse the years of neglect and her inability to properly care for him. But, despite his rational, better judgment—it was enough to keep those scales balanced. And he hated it. He hated the photograph, but he couldn’t bear to be without it, or to toss it away in the ocean as he could’ve easily done at that very moment. He wanted to hate his mother. He should have hated his mother—it would have made things so much easier—but he couldn’t. And he didn’t.

He stuffed the photo back into the pocket of his gym bag and sniffled, opting to trade one painful memory for another. The first time he had come here was the morning after _that _night at Jessica’s party. The night after Bryce had raped her. Back then, Justin was naïve enough to think that the wisps of the one pleasant memory of his mother might have been enough to alleviate his guilt, but the moment his phone rang with Jessica’s name on the screen, he realized he should’ve known better.

Justin amazed himself—with how well he could lie. Pretend. Conjure up a fake narrative to provide a smokescreen for the debilitating trauma of that evening. He hadn’t even thought of it beforehand, all the way from Jess’s house to the docks. It came to him right at that moment, like a lifeline at the very last moment that kept him from drowning. It—it was, honestly, second nature for him. Looking back on it now, it made sense—complete and total sense. He was raised by liars. His mother. Bryce. All the men who passed through his life growing up. Justin told lies all the time to construct this alternate reality to shield himself from his friends. The ones that never got too close. And even just now, with Ren.

And more tellingly—with Clay. Justin could be a fucking good liar when he wanted to be, and he had hidden his addiction from the one who had been the closest to him. The one he was supposed to love.

And with Jessica, too, he had lied to her for weeks about what truly happened to her. He rationalized his decision with Clay just as he had done with her—to protect them—and he only ended up wreaking even more destruction.

He looked over in the distance, eyeing the construction crane just off the horizon. The second time he’d come here, after he admitted to Jessica what Bryce had done to her, he had climbed the crane to end it all, ultimately chickening out as dawn broke out over the shoreline.

Justin was a poison. A curse. He stood up, drawing his bag’s strap over his shoulder, and started to march towards the crane.

Perhaps now, he needed to reevaluate his perspective one last time.


	6. The Crane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin revisits a dark place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, we're finally here. This has been a tough chapter in many ways, and I've had a bit of anxiety about this chapter for a few reasons. Namely, it's another moment I've envisioned since the beginning, but stuck with it because there's a very similar moment in season 3. I believe we're through the heaviest of the angst, but there is still plenty more to come.
> 
> Trigger warnings ahead for despairing thoughts and implications/imaginings of suicide/self-harm. And, okay, I don't normally spoil at the beginning, but Justin and Clay reunite in this chapter as well.

The structure of whatever the crane was helping to build seemed to make little progress from the last time Justin was here. He guessed the development was for new offices or something like that, since there was clearly a parking deck underneath the exposed foundation of the rising building. He managed to get in just as easily as before, with one of the primary gates still slightly ajar despite being locked with a long chain. Justin had wondered about the lax security the first time, but had figured the development was so far in the middle of nowhere that it didn’t justify a round-the-clock watch.

The crane seemed to sit near the center of it all, and its base was a short walk from the gate in spite of all the raw mounds of earth and rocky gravel covering most of the lot. Justin reached the bottom of the crane, and debated briefly whether or not to climb with his bag. Although he’d done it the first time, he figured it might be easier without it. Despite how tall the crane looked, the climb was not a long one. Ultimately, Justin remembered how naked he could feel without his bag sometimes, so he grasped the rungs of the ladder and began to ascend.

It was a straight shot up to the pilot’s cabin. Justin noticed the top of the tree line enter his view as he climbed, and it wasn’t long before the horizon began to stretch out all around him. The sky remained overcast, and the little sun that shone through offered a gloomy picture of the earth below.

When Justin reached the cabin, he set his bag down on the platform surrounding it and leaned against the banister to take in the view. He was really fucking high up, yes, and it felt slightly disorienting to look down, but the view—the view was worth it. On one side, he could see the infinite expanse of ocean all the way to the horizon. On the other, all of Crestmont lay before him. In all its shitty glory.

At this height, the trees blended together to look like shrubs. He could see the Crestmont theater from here, as well as the large drab lot that was Liberty High. He could also see the neighborhood where his mother used to live, and also the general area where the Jensen house should’ve been.

It was hardly windy at all, this time. Last time, the air had been much more active, and had triggered Justin’s stubborn, instinctual fear of falling. He glanced back down, and yeah, the fear was there, but he wasn’t afraid. At some point, after you get past a certain height, Justin figured that you get past the fear. If something were to happen, it was gonna happen—nothing you could do about it, then.

Justin pulled back from the railing and sat down on the platform, leaning against the wall of the pilot’s cabin. Although he couldn’t really tell where the sun was at, he guessed that it had to have been much later in the morning, now. He pulled out his phone, tried to wake it up before remembering that he’d turned it off, then powered it back on. Once it fully came back to life, Justin found it to be close to eleven, so he wasn’t far off.

He stared at the screen—bracing himself for something to pop up. Anything. When nothing appeared, he saw the service indicator still searching for a signal. After another moment, _No service_ finally declared itself within the status bar. And his battery was still critically low.

Turning the phone back off, Justin slipped it back into his pocket. Justin wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he probably should have known that some random development in the middle of nowhere was likely going to lack cellular reception. He didn’t know how he would feel if he’d turned it on to find a flood of frantic messages from Clay. Or, if he had turned it on, had service—and had no messages at all.

Justin honestly couldn’t decide at the moment which would be worse. He—hadn’t really wanted to leave. But, he couldn’t face the chance of the Jensens sending him away. If Clay had messaged him asking him to come back—Justin didn’t know if he would. He didn’t know if they could really come back from this. Or if they even should. Despite everything, Justin had proven once again that he was no good for anybody. He ruined or hurt everyone he cared about. His mother. Jessica.

Maybe even Bryce. Justin had had a unique place in his best friend’s life. He’d had the chance to stand up to Bryce—to keep him in check when his friend stepped out of line—but he never did. He just went along with everything Bryce wanted. Indulged his worst impulses because he himself had always been too afraid to say no. If Justin had had more of a backbone, his old friend might not have become the rapist pariah he was today.

Clay’s parents even split for a while because of Justin. They might have been okay, now, but how long would it be until karma eventually caught up to him once more? Justin was a burden Matt and Lainie had never asked for. How long would it be before they started to resent him because of it?

Zach, even. They were supposed to be friends, too, but Justin had been too self-absorbed to be there for him. Zach had lost a fucking_ parent_. He’d put up a front for everyone. Justin should’ve known better. He should’ve seen past it.

His mother often told him how she regretted having him. That she wished she’d aborted Justin. What kind of mother would say that to her own fucking kid—unless she meant it? A stupid, worthless, loser, evil, monster kid.

Clay. How long would it take before the boy saw just how truly fucked up Justin really was? Even if they somehow came back from this, how long would it be before Justin screwed up again? Hurt Clay again? Would their relationship just be a cycle of forgiveness and pain—until he ended up destroying Clay?

Like he’d done with Hannah?

The first tape. Justin was the very first tape. If it weren’t for him, there wouldn’t be any fucking eleven or twelve other reasons. Because Hannah would still be alive. And she’d be the one with Clay, now. Making the boy happy like no one else could.

And Jessica. Fuck. She had wished him dead, too. Or just as well. Rightfully so. To never see him again. It was the worst thing he had ever done. Unspeakable. What he did to her. Let happen to her. Why was he still alive? Why the fuck was he still breathing?

He was really fucking high up. Really fucking high. It would be a thrill—something no drug would ever deliver. One last adrenaline rush of a lifetime before he just.

Stopped.

Ceased to exist.

It would be quick. Painless. In about five seconds, or less. From that height, there’d be no chance of survival, so there’d be zero chance of his consciousness lasting long enough to register anything beyond _this is it._ Then he’d be no more.

Nothing.

Like he always was.

“Justin.”

He found Hannah kneeling before him.

“Stop it,” she said.

Justin found himself sobbing, and pressed his palms to his eyes to try to stem the tears. He didn’t want to die. He really didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to feel that crippling and debilitating and overwhelming sense of regret that would take his last bit of sanity right before he hit the ground—and there would be nothing that he could do to take it back. He didn’t want to think of what his death would do to Clay, the Jensens, Jessica, Zach, Alex, and everyone else.

He didn’t want that piece of shit Bryce to feel vindicated. Or be completely unsurprised. He wanted to be around to see that fucker pay.

And he didn’t want to prove his own mother right. That he was useless. That he wouldn’t amount to anything. That she’d raised a loser.

Letting himself cry, Justin eventually felt himself grow still as all coherent thought drained from his mind.

~ ~ ~

For a while, Justin stared at the horizon. He sat, unmoving, feeling as if he were in a conscious daze. He managed to keep his thoughts from venturing down the darker paths of his psyche and from losing his shit completely, but couldn’t stop himself from cycling through everything else. Why he left. Why he should go back. How everyone needed him. How they were better off without him.

It wasn’t until he spotted a car driving along the embankment towards the construction site did something else pique his attention. There’d been absolutely no other cars going by or anything since Justin had been there. He rubbed his eyes, then peered down at the car, hoping to get a better look as it got closer.

“That’s Clay,” Hannah said, suddenly kneeling beside him on the platform once more.

Justin glanced at her briefly, but when he looked again, she was gone. He turned his attention back towards the car, and sure enough, it looked awfully much like a Prius. What were the chances?

It came to a stop once it neared the gate surrounding the construction site. Yeah, it was definitely a Prius, and it was definitely the right color. Justin leaned closer to the railing for a better look right as a thin, dark-haired figure stepped out of the car.

Clay fucking Jensen.

There was a direct line of sight between them, from the top of the crane down to the main gate. Looking upwards, the boy cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, _“JUSTIN!” _His voice was faint, but still echoed and carried across the utter silence.

Justin stood up, also cupping his hands around his mouth. _“CLAY!”_

_“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING UP THERE?”_

Justin had no idea how to answer him. When he didn’t respond, Clay went on, _“DO NOT MOVE! I’M COMING UP!”_

_“NO!” _Justin shouted back, but the boy was already through the crack in the gate and sprinting down the construction site. Clay found the base of the crane in moments and was already climbing the ladder before Justin could even think to offer shouting that he’d climb down.

He tried to watch the boy climb, but had to wrench his gaze elsewhere, his heart pounding, unable to even imagine the possibility of Clay slipping from the ladder. After a few agonizing moments, the boy reached the platform, and they found themselves standing before each other, gaping at one another. Clay seemed panicked, and was breathing heavily, as he looked back at Justin through reddened, misty eyes.

“God damn it, Justin,” the boy uttered, then lunged towards him in a desperate embrace.

Had Justin not had his back towards the pilot’s cabin, they might have lost their balance. Luckily, even as his stubborn fear of heights flared, Justin kept them both upright as he found himself embracing Clay in return, infinitely grateful to be able to feel his boyfriend against him once more.

Clay drew back slightly. He shook his head tearfully, sobbing, “What are you doing? What are you _doing?”_

Justin’s chest spammed, feeling his heart shatter. “I—I wasn’t… I wasn’t,” he tried to say, but found himself unable to finish as he broke down crying instead. They held onto each other once more, letting themselves sob into the other’s shoulder. They cried for some time, remaining silent for much of it, and let their embrace do most of the communicating for the both of them.

Savoring Clay’s warmth against him again, and every shaky breath in and out—in, and out—Justin couldn’t help but feel as if reason and logic were returning to him. Like the fog was lifting from his mind, and he could see again. And he couldn’t help regretting the thoughts he let play out—of even thinking of doing what the boy must’ve imagined him there ready to do.

Eventually, Clay drew back again, and prompted Justin to sit. As they sat in front of each other on the platform, the boy kept his gaze fixed on Justin, who found himself unable to meet his eyes in return.

“Seriously, Justin,” the boy uttered, _“why_ are you up here?”

Shaking his head, Justin coughed, and cleared his throat. “The first time I came up here, it was after I told Jess the truth—about what happened. About what Bryce did to her.” He sniffled. “I—I thought about it, the last time I was here. I guess I just, just needed a reminder—why, why I didn’t go through with it. The first time.”

Clay’s expression twisted in agony, and Justin had to shut his eyes for a moment not to see it, the guilt boring a hole through his chest.

“Why did you turn off your damn phone?” the boy went on.

Sighing, Justin replied, “I was low on battery. I forgot to charge it yesterday.”

“Did you not get any of my messages when you turned it on?”

“I didn’t have any service up here.” Justin looked up at Clay. “Is that how you found me?”

Jensen nodded. “What would have happened—if I hadn’t?” When Justin looked away, the boy sniffled, then said, “Why did you leave this morning? Why did you run away?”

Justin managed to look back at Clay, whispering, “You ran away first.”

The boy sniffled again. “That’s not fair, Justin. I was angry—”

“And you had every right to be.”

“—and I don’t trust my anger. I don’t trust myself when I’m _that _angry.” Clay sniffled again, rubbing his nose. “After the way you stayed by the door when I said not to do anything, I just…” He hung his head. “After how you said we should just fight it out…”

He took Justin’s hand. “Look,” Clay went on, “I don’t know exactly—what you’re used to—when those around you get upset, but I didn’t—I didn’t want to take the chance that I’d do or say something I would regret.”

Justin cleared his throat. “You still left me with your parents to—to pretend like everything was okay.”

Clay nodded. “They told me—a little of what happened. I—honestly, I thought it wouldn’t be that hard at the time. I mean, was I completely oblivious, or was it not easy to keep this from me all this time?”

“It got harder, the more time went on.” Justin sighed. “I meant it—when I said I was going to wean myself off of it. And if I couldn’t—I was going to tell you.” He met Clay’s eyes and squeezed his hand. “Please—you have to believe me.”

Clay shook his head, drawing his hand back. Justin managed to keep the lump in his throat from choking him. “I really wish I could,” the boy said, “but you never told me about the gun you had with you. When I first brought you back. Why did I have to find that out from Monty when he was practically on his deathbed?”

Managing to swallow, Justin said, “Is that why you finally looked in my bag?”

“Would I have found all your stuff the first time if I had? While you were in lock-up?”

Justin gave him a small nod. “I still sometimes wonder why you hadn’t.”

The boy shook his head again. “I—I really wanted to. I almost did, thinking I should just spread out all your stuff. Integrate it into the room. But then I thought, you wouldn’t want that. Maybe you were keeping most of your stuff in there for a reason. I wanted to respect your privacy. Give you a choice. So I didn’t.” He offered Justin a sad smile. “I guess it was really your backup plan all this time, huh?”

Feeling the remorse spike inside of him, Justin barely managed to keep from sobbing once more. “I never meant to lie to you. I didn’t mean to hurt you, or keep this from you. I just—I was just so afraid.” He sniffled, and wiped the tears from his eyes. “I was so afraid—you were going to change your mind. Or your parents.

“I had the pills on me. I kept them, not intending on using them—but when things were so weird between us when I first got out—I lost it. I gave in, and then it was too late. I was off the wagon.”

Justin let out a deep breath. “I don’t just love you, Clay. I think—I think I love your parents, too.”

Clay smiled back at him, even though more tears fell from his eyes. “Why did you leave, then?”

Glancing towards the horizon, Justin took a moment before answering. “Do you—don’t you remember your nightmare? How, how you were so angry at me? When you tried to push me off the bed?”

The boy gave a brief, sad chuckle. “I figured you knew I didn’t really want you out. Or—I thought you did. People can still care for each other—and get into fights. Not, not physical fights, of course, but arguments. They can disagree. They can get mad at each other. Normal couples do. My parents do. That never meant I wanted you to leave. Or that I wanted you gone.”

Justin shook his head, swallowing. “The way you looked at me—you looked like you really hated me. Again.”

“No, Justin,” Clay said, sniffling as anger flashed across his brow. “You really wanna know what I was dreaming about? You really wanna know why I was so angry? I dreamt that I came home, that I came up to my room to find you on my bed—passed out, with a needle stuck in your arm. But you weren’t really passed out. You were dead. It was an overdose.

“Isn’t that pretty much how Alex found you that day, almost? After I uploaded the tapes? What if he hadn’t been there, huh? Would I have found you there—like _that—_having choked on your own fucking vomit?”

A sob escaped Justin. “I’m sorry,” he uttered, “I’m so sorry.”

Clay sniffled, taking Justin’s hand once more. “You have to get it, Justin. You _have _to. Look, I see now—truly—why you were so angry at me after what I did with Tyler. I’d be fucking destroyed if anything happened to you. And, just like you said, I really don’t have it in me to handle something like that after these past few months.”

Justin shook his head and rubbed his nose with his free hand. “It’s not the same. You did it to save people’s lives. To save Tyler. You were fucking brave. What I did was the complete opposite. What I did—was selfish. And cowardly. And weak.”

The boy let go of his hand but Justin felt him grasp his shoulders. “Justin, look at me.” Gradually, he met Clay’s eyes. “Those actions don’t define you. I know who you are, and I know—you are _not_ those things.”

Unable to hold it together, Justin wept, “It would still be the worse thing I could ever do to you. And I still almost did it—anyway.”

When Justin started to convulse with sobs, Clay reached across and embraced him once more. “It’s not completely your fault, Justin,” the boy said, rubbing his back. “You’ve got an addiction. Addiction—is a disease. And you can’t beat it alone.”

Clay pulled back to look at him. “I’m sorry—I let my anger get the better of me. I’m sorry—I ran away first. I’m sorry—I didn’t handle this better.”

Justin sniffled, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t be sorry, Clay. I fucked up. I’m the one that should be sorry—and I am. I’m sorry I lied to you, that I kept this from you. I’m sorry I hurt you, and I’m sorry for running away, too.”

The boy managed a small smile. “You knew I was gonna chase after you, right? Why else did you bring your phone?”

Justin blinked more tears from his eyes. “I, I was gonna—use it to say goodbye. If, if I had to.” When Clay looked stricken again, Justin quickly went on, “No, not like that! I swear, I—I wasn’t going to do _that_.”

Clay took Justin’s hand again. “Be honest. Have you—been having those thoughts?”

Sniffling once more, Justin hung his head. “Yes.”

“All right, well, it’s okay if you have, but the point is—not to act on them.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Justin insisted.

“Okay,” Clay said, glancing around them, “but I think I would believe you more—if we got the hell down from this crane.”

Despite everything, Justin managed a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Mrs. Baker puts it in the end of season 2, there are ALWAYS more reasons why NOT. Not to be preachy again, but I have found, things DO get better...


	7. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin and Clay return home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating goes up slightly for this chapter.

They climbed down, Clay insisting that Justin go first and joking that his bag would break their fall. Once back in the car, they shut their doors, and Clay let out a long sigh before he reached to start the engine.

“What happens now?” Justin asked.

“Well, I talked to Sheri when I saw that you were gone, and—she helped me realize a few things.”

“Does she know about us?”

“No. There wasn’t enough time to tell her everything. But, we’re gonna follow your plan. We’re gonna wean you off of this. Continue to use—until Wednesday. Possibly Thursday. We’ll see how you feel then, and if we need to, I’ll tell my parents you’ve come down with something, and I’ll convince them I’ll stay home with you on Friday. We’ll spend the weekend detoxing.”

“We’re not gonna tell them?”

Clay seemed to think for a moment, looking towards the windshield. “If this doesn’t work, we will. I’m gonna be selfish, though, because I don’t want you going away to rehab, which I’m pretty sure my mom will make you do. Even if it jeopardizes your case.”

Justin let out a sigh. “Fuck, I didn’t even think of that. Of course it would.”

“They don’t need to know. Not yet.” He looked back at Justin. “But, from now on, you’ve _got _to be straight with me when it comes to this. You can’t hide this shit from me anymore. Bring me in. Let me help you. Tell me when you have these cravings, or when you’re feeling tempted. Lean on me, and use your recovery meetings like how you’re supposed to.”

Taking a moment to think, and breathe, Justin eventually asked, “Are we—are we gonna be able to, to come back from this?”

Clay reached over and took Justin’s hand, interlacing their fingers together. “We’re not broken,” the boy said. “At least, I never thought we were. Is that what you thought?”

Shaking his head again, Justin replied, “I don’t know. I guess—yeah, I did.”

“Well, we’re not. You’re still mine, and I’m still yours—if you’ll have me.”

Justin looked back at the boy and managed a small smile. “Of course I will.”

“It’ll take work,” his boyfriend continued, “but this isn’t something I can’t get past.”

Sobering his expression, Justin said, “Are you sure?”

“I mean, it’s not like I’ve lost all my trust in you. I believe you when you say you want to get clean. I still trust that you love me. And I believe you’re going to make sure things are different this time—because I’m gonna do my part to make sure of that, too. Just don’t lie to me like this again.”

Justin squeezed his hand. “I’m gonna earn your trust back completely. I’m not gonna make this mistake again.”

His boyfriend smiled at him, then leaned over to kiss him. Justin met his lips with a brief, gentle caress before Clay drew back.

“Let’s go home,” the boy said.

It was still overcast, but some sun had started to peek out from behind the clouds. As they drove, Justin felt his shoulders gradually lighten—freed from the burden of his darkest thoughts—even though the wisps of another craving began tickling his skin.

“What did you tell your folks?” Justin asked as they crossed back onto the city streets.

Clay cleared his throat. “I told them you went over to Zach’s first thing in the morning. That you were trying to start your ‘program.’ I used it as a chance to get out of the house and go for a jog after I sent you all those messages. I had hoped you would’ve responded by the time I got back.”

Justin took that as a cue to turn his phone back on. Once he did, and it found a signal again, the notifications flooded the screen, making Justin nearly cringe.

MESSAGES 3h ago

Sheri  
Clay’s really worried about you. You should  
call him back

MESSAGES 9:47 AM

Jess  
so, how did your date go with clay last  
night?

PHONE 9:40 AM

Clay  
Voicemail

MESSAGES 8:10 AM

Clay  
I love you

MESSAGES 8:07 AM

Clay  
Please don’t leave me

MESSAGES 7:55 AM

Clay  
Please don’t leave me like this

MESSAGES 7:51 AM

Clay  
Please don’t do this

PHONE 7:50 AM

Clay  
Voicemail

MESSAGES 7:50 AM

Clay  
You can’t do this, not again

MESSAGES 7:50 AM

Clay  
Please don’t do this

MESSAGES 7:50 AM

Clay  
Seriously, you’re not leaving again are you?

MESSAGES 7:49 AM

Clay  
Where are you? Where did you go?

“I’m so sorry,” Justin uttered, the back of his throat prickling again with tears.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Clay insisted. “You can delete those voicemails, too. All I said was, ‘call me back,’ and ‘I covered for you, but you need to come back soon.’”

As Justin gazed down at his phone, the screen went black, displayed the spinning wheel as it shut off. With the battery finally dead, he shoved it back into his pocket.

“Another thing,” the boy went on.

“Yeah?”

“When you have those thoughts again—_if_ you have those thoughts again—talk to me, okay?”

“I will,” Justin assured. “I promise.”

They were back home a short while later. Justin caught a glimpse of Hannah in the backseat before stepping out of the car, but she said nothing, and merely nodded at him. When he and Clay walked into the house, they found Lainie at the dining room table with her work spread out before her.

“Hi boys,” she greeted. Justin and Clay greeted her back. “How was your workout?” Lainie went on, looking towards Justin.

“It was tough,” Justin replied, then exhaled deeply, forcing a laugh. “I’m beat.”

“You look like it,” Clay’s mom remarked. “There’s some lunch leftover from the farmer’s market if you’re hungry.”

Justin looked towards Clay, who said, “Maybe in a bit. We’ve got some work to do.” He patted Justin’s back, prompting him upstairs.

When they reached Clay’s room, Justin set his bag down by the coffee table as the boy shut the door. He turned towards Justin, then nodded his head towards the duffle bag.

“I need to see it. Everything you have left.”

“Okay,” Justin said, kneeling down before unzipping his bag. He pulled out his gear and unrolled it on the floor, laying it all out in full view.

“I used this morning,” Justin went on, “at Rosie’s. I went there first when, when I left.”

Clay knelt on the floor beside Justin. “I figured you’d had something to eat, at least. I tasted syrup on your lips.” He smiled at Justin, who managed to smile back. “How are you feeling now?” Clay went on, taking and examining the small baggie of pills.

“Okay.” Justin glanced towards the bed to see Hannah sitting on the edge of it. “I’m on the verge of a craving,” he said, looking back at Clay, “but nothing major. It, it usually starts like this when—when I get stressed.”

“Are you gonna need to use again tonight, then?”

Justin shook his head. “I could go until tomorrow, I think.”

Clay’s expression grew stern. “Is this the last of it? The _absolute _last of it?”

“Yes.” Justin pulled out the wad of clothes he had left in his bag, emptying it. He then pulled from the bottom the brown paper bag with Seth’s money and laid out the rubber-banded wad of cash.

“Where _did _you get all this money?”

“I stole it from my mom’s boyfriend.”

The boy eyed him. “I’d been meaning to ask, but—I was kind of afraid of what the answer might be.”

Justin shook his head. “I doubt he’ll come looking for it. He’s got worse shit to deal with right now. He never knew I came back, so, he probably thinks my mom has it.”

They sat staring at the cash for a moment.

“Count it,” Justin prompted.

Slowly, Clay reached for the cash, then unstrapped it. Justin waited as the boy counted it.

When he finished, Clay stashed the money back in the bag. “What was your plan to get more drugs?”

Justin indicated the folded piece of paper inside the baggie of pills. “The number—for the hookup. I haven’t called it.” He pulled out his phone, offering it to the boy. “I’ve only put it in my phone.”

Clay eyed the phone, and seemed to grow troubled. “Jesus,” he sighed, “have I got to check your phone, too?”

Swallowing, Justin said, “You should. Please—don’t leave me with any way to wiggle out of this. I might be okay now, but—when it starts to hit, I—I need to know there’s no back door.”

The boy reluctantly accepted Justin’s phone. He stood up and went over to the desk to plug it in. “What’s the pass code?” he asked.

“Nine-eight-one-two.”

Clay seemed to suppress a smirk. “Not the worst of pass codes, at least.” Justin chuckled.

As the boy gazed down at the phone for a moment, he eventually said, “Mine is two-five-one-four.”

Justin forced a laugh. “I’m not gonna remember that.”

“Two-five-one-four,” Clay repeated. “It makes a square, or a capital _N,_” he went on, gesturing with his thumb. When the phone finally appeared to turn on, Justin watched his boyfriend tap into the phone. “What’s the number under? How’s it stored?”

“It’s only in the contacts. It’s under ‘mom.’”

Clay looked back at Justin, managing to temper his look of pity. “I take it your mom doesn’t have a working phone.”

“She hasn’t had service in months.”

After a few more taps, the boy said, “It’s gone. Deleted.” He set the phone back on the desk to let it charge. “How come Jess is asking you about last night?”

Justin shrugged. “I—I tried to ask her for advice for our date night. She invited us to go bowling with her and Alex.”

When he looked back at Clay, the boy asked, “Do I need to look through your messages? Or e-mails? Or whatever?”

“No. I haven’t tried to contact anyone to score.” Justin opened the baggie of pills and pulled out the piece of paper. When Clay came up to him, he gave the paper to his boyfriend as he sat beside Justin.

“Have you put anything more anywhere else in this room? Or in this house?”

Justin shook his head. “No. Nothing. Nowhere else.”

“Use only when I’m here, okay?” They met each other’s gaze. “Tell me—when you feel like you absolutely have to use.”

“Okay.”

“Do you know anyone else you can score from? At school?”

Justin exhaled deeply. “Yes, but—I’m not going to. That one—I think you’re just going to have to trust me on.”

Clay gave a small nod. “I think I can take that for now. But, this doesn’t end after you detox—you know that, right?”

“I do.”

The boy’s expression softened, and he reached over to hug him. Justin embraced him back. “I believe in you,” Clay said. “You can do this.”

“I won’t let you down,” Justin said, clearing his throat. He saw Hannah on the bed once more, and she seemed to approve.

When Clay instructed him to keep it all in the bag, Justin packed everything back up and moved to slide it back under the boy’s bed. Clay stood up, and led Justin to lie on top of the bed, which was unmade. “Come here,” his boyfriend said, and Justin nestled against him, draping an arm across his chest as Clay brought his arms around him in return.

They were quiet for several moments. Justin was content to listen to his boyfriend breathe beside him.

“So,” Clay eventually said, “I suppose we both have embarrassing IKEA stories under our belts, now.”

Justin gave a gentle laugh. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

The boy sighed. “I was really psyching myself to tell them this weekend. About us.”

_Fuck._ “I’m sorry,” Justin began.

Clay shushed him. “It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize again. We’ll have another chance.” He squeezed Justin. “We’ll get you clean for real, this time. We’ll go on awkward double dates with Jess and Alex...”

Justin laughed again. “Would it really be that awkward?”

“I would be awkward in any social situation.”

He poked his boyfriend’s shoulder blade. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“Oh, just wait and see.”

“You were the first one to get up and dance.”

“Mmm, not _technically.”_

Justin chuckled. “Well, you got me and Zach to dance.”

They fell quiet for a short while. “Why,” Clay began, slowly, “why—that crane? Why did you go there—the first time?”

Drawing in a deep breath, Justin answered, “It was the water, really. The beach.”

“Why the beach?”

Justin took a moment. “It was the only place I can remember—my mom being—an actual mom. It was from forever ago, though, and it didn’t really help.”

He thought of the photograph still in his duffle bag, but guessed that Clay had sensed him tense up and so was relieved when he didn’t push the topic.

Instead, Clay said, “I don’t think I can tell you how glad I am—to have you back here with me.”

Justin reached for Clay’s hand, and they interlaced their fingers together. “Me too.”

“Next time—stay. No matter how tough it seems to get.”

“I will.”

“No more running away.”

“I won’t.”

“And I won’t run, either. No matter how angry I get.”

“I won’t give you a reason to get that angry, again.”

He felt Clay nudging his cheek against his head, and for a while, they continued to simply hold each other on top of the bed.

~ ~ ~

Before they could nap for too long, Justin felt Clay nudge him awake, and said that they should get started on their homework. Or rather, Justin’s homework. They ended up taking dinner in their room, which consisted of leftover burrito bowls from the farmer’s market Matt had picked up earlier in the day, so that Justin could get through his assignments.

It was a chore to get through his reading, his short answer assignment, his math, and his physics, but Justin clung to the artificial sense of normalcy his homework provided. With Clay across the couch from him, reading, it was almost enough to feel like a typical Sunday evening.

If it weren’t for the nagging twinge of his craving prickling the skin on his arms. And Hannah constantly appearing at several spots in the room—the desk, the side chair, the bed, the door—watching him.

When Justin got through one assignment, he’d pass it to Clay to look over, who’d either approve or pass it back when Justin had something else to pass on. It took them well into the evening, and by the time Justin finished, Clay sent him to brush and shower.

It hadn’t occurred to Justin until he was midway through brushing his teeth that Clay was being kinda—bossy. Given what Justin had done, he couldn’t blame the boy. It made sense. And, for the time being, it honestly made everything easier—especially when compared to the excruciating uncertainty that had made most of the past twenty-four hours such a fog. He was grateful to have Clay be mostly okay with him again, and if it meant following the boy’s orders to keep him on board, Justin was good with that. In a weird way, he sort of liked Clay’s assertiveness. Justin found it—almost attractive, even.

After he finished brushing, Justin stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower. As he let the water begin streaming down his body, it was a relief to feel the wet warmth sooth his skin and muscles, to feel the water run through and flatten his hair. A part of him had braced for the potential of being unable to shower again for weeks, so being beneath that stream of steady, hot water again so soon was a frank reminder of how much Justin had hated living on the streets.

Justin heard the door open before quickly clicking shut. His heart jumping, Justin peered around the shower curtain to see Clay having entered the bathroom.

“Clay,” he said, forcing a quick laugh, “what are you doing?”

“I’m multitasking,” the boy answered, meeting his eyes briefly before making for the sink. Jensen grabbed toothpaste and his own toothbrush by the sink and looked like he was about to brush his teeth.

As the boy turned on the sink, Justin closed the shower curtain again, the surprise fading and quickly leading towards—excitement? anticipation? He couldn’t help the jolt of energy that shot down to his crotch, making his dick twitch slightly. Was Clay planning something? Justin couldn’t keep the thrill from spawning a semi as he began lathering shampoo through his hair.

Justin rinsed, then repeated the process. As the lather washed down his torso, his semi persisted, and it took all of his concentration to keep from imagining the boy stepping into the shower with him.

Which almost seemed kinda wrong, in a way. And that just made it even hotter. Should they really be in the mood for sexy time, given all that had happened?

Maybe—it was just the thing to put such a shitty weekend behind them.

Justin grabbed the loofa, and was reaching for the body wash when the shower curtain slid open slightly and Clay peeked his head in through the gap.

“Clay!” Justin squeaked, nearly choking, although he felt a grin nudging his cheeks. Clay eyed him up and down quickly before disappearing from the gap.

After a second or two, the curtain flew open again—much wider this time—and the boy stepped into the shower. Naked.

Beautiful.

Justin’s breath hitched as Clay stood before him beneath the shower head, the water streaming down between them.

“Relax,” the boy said with a smirk. “I’ve seen you naked before, Foley.”

Managing another grin, Justin replied, “Not like this.”

Clay grasped his shoulders. “I’m gonna be completely transparent: I don’t fully trust you to be in the room alone right now with temptation, so I figured—why don’t we try and multitask?”

He moved his hands downward, laying them across Justin’s chest. “I’m not saying that I could _completely _distract you from your craving, but a distraction of this kind,” Clay stepped forward, closing the gap between them as the water started streaming down his chest, “could help—couldn’t it?”

Justin glanced down—and spotted Clay’s semi-erection as the tips of their cocks touched, sending a jolt through his body.

“Yes,” Justin breathed, “yes it could.”

Clay reached behind Justin’s head—then shoved him against the wall, winding him. Justin yelped from the impact as a surge of exhilarating emotions exploded through his mind. The boy had meant to push him, but had also used his hand to keep his head from hitting the tile.

“I’ll admit,” the boy whispered into his ear, “there’s a part of me that’s still mad at you. If angry sex is a thing, why not—angry hand jobs?”

Justin would have laughed—had he not been so turned on by Clay’s sudden display of strength. “I, I don’t mind being—manhandled a little.”

“Good,” his boyfriend uttered, “‘cause I wanna see how fast I can make you come. But first…”

Clay grabbed Justin’s balls, giving them a hard squeeze inside of his palm. Justin’s throat tightened with the action, forcing an involuntary moan from him as the air was forced out of his lungs once more.

“Lie to me like this again,” the boy warned, “and I will break your balls. Literally. You got that?”

When Justin could only manage small, rapid nods, Clay tightened his grip, sending sweet twinges of pain up towards his stomach.

“I said,” Clay pressed, “you got that?”

“Yes!” Justin squeaked, and his boyfriend released him. As he tried to catch his breath, though, Clay smashed their lips together before invading his mouth with tongue, and while the water streamed down them both, it was almost like literally drowning in Clay’s mouth. And it was so fucking hot that Justin could’ve shot his load right then and there.

Justin heard the snap of the bottle of body wash, though, before his boyfriend’s strong grip was stroking his throbbing erection with slick, euphoric, and rapid precision. He couldn’t stop moaning into the boy’s hot, eager lips and his dominating, dancing tongue sweeping high and low and all across Justin’s own. While Clay continued pressing him against the tile, Justin felt his knees grow weak, and before long, he had to hang onto the boy’s firm shoulders to keep himself upright.

Clay stroked him mercilessly, and it was a matter of moments before Justin buckled and felt a shout escape into the boy’s mouth as the orgasm slammed into him, making nearly all his muscles spasm and a jet of come shoot through his cock. The boy resisted his attempts to fold forward and kept him pressed against the tile, but thankfully slowed his strokes drastically as he followed through on Justin’s orgasm, using his mouth to continue to stifle Justin’s involuntary moans of pleasure.

When Justin’s erection finally began to soften, Clay drew back slightly, giving them both a chance to catch their breaths. The boy was trembling slightly, even though the water was still warm, and Justin reached to caress his boyfriend’s face.

“That,” Clay began, “that wasn’t too far, was it?”

Still winded, Justin managed a slight grin. “Clay, that—was the hottest fucking thing I’ve seen you do yet.”

He grasped Clay’s arms, then spun him around so that they switched places, minus the shove against the wall, which was more of a gentle push.

“I only wish,” Justin went on, “you could’ve come as I did.”

Before the boy could say anything, Justin rubbed the gob of lather still on his crotch and the spray of come that still clung to Clay’s stomach and gripped the boy’s erection, drawing an airy moan from his boyfriend with the action. Justin brought their lips together again and began stroking the boy as Clay wrapped his hands around the small of Justin’s back. As their mouths sparred again, Justin stroked Clay off with the grip he knew the boy was less able to resist, and sure enough, Clay was groaning into his mouth and coming in his fist before Justin could feel his own erection subside completely.

Once convinced he had drained the boy of come, Justin let go of him and drew back slightly, but only far enough so that they could rest their foreheads together and catch their breaths.

“Fuck,” Clay sighed.

“What?”

“You still lasted longer than I did.”

Justin laughed. As the water streamed down both their bodies, Clay leaned in again, and they made out for several moments more.

The boy then pulled Justin into a deep embrace, parting their lips, but bringing their bodies totally together.

“I love you so much,” Clay breathed, nuzzling his neck and shoulder.

Justin held him back tightly, leaning into his embrace. “I love you, too.”

“I know you have it in you. I know you can get through this. Please—don’t let me down. I need you—to get through this.”

Drawing back so that he could meet his boyfriend’s eyes, Justin assured, “I will. _We _will. I swear on my life—I won’t let you down like this again. You’re everything to me. Everything that matters.”

After another moment, which Justin spent listening to the running shower and feeling Clay breathe beside him, they separated to rinse off, both soaping and Clay shampooing, then helped each other with their backs and other hard-to-reach places. They did so wordlessly, like they were in perfect sync. As Clay seemed to know just where to rub more firmly and where to ease up, Justin realized that the boy also clearly knew what felt good. Or at least, what would make him, Justin, feel good.

When they finished, they shut the shower off, then started quietly giggling as they argued over who would step out first. Justin eventually caved, stepping out of the tub to brave the relative chill of the rest of the bathroom and letting Clay have the warmth of the tub as they both toweled off.

“I take it I need to leave first?” Justin asked, grinning as he ran his towel across his back.

“Yes,” Clay replied as he rubbed his own towel on his scalp. “Once I know the coast is clear, I’ll tiptoe out behind you.”

When they finished drying off, Justin wrapped the towel around his waist and grabbed his clothes. He opened the door, peeked outside towards the master bedroom to see only darkness, then looked back at Clay to give a thumbs up. The boy laughed.

Once back in their room, they dressed in their nightwear and found themselves matching again with their navy tees and black boxer briefs. After turning out all the lights save for the bed lamp, they sat on the bed.

“Real talk, though,” Clay said, “how are you feeling?”

Justin nodded with a smile. “I’m feeling pretty fucking good—all things considered.”

“Do you think you can make it through the night? Without another—dose?”

Sobering his expression, Justin replied, “Yeah, I think so. As—as long as you make me the little spoon.”

Clay laughed. “Okay. That—I think I can do.”

Justin clicked off the lamp, and they settled into bed, drawing the covers over them as they assumed their positions. Justin hugged Clay’s arms as the boy spooned him, feeling the energy rapidly drain from his body as he put his focus towards his boyfriend’s steady breathing behind him, and his nourishing warmth helping to keep the stubborn tingles of his craving at bay.


	8. Monday Muddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin and Clay head back to school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up for direct depictions of drug use. What Clay does here should not be construed as any sort of guide to anything.

Waking with a start, Justin found himself on his side. The room was still dark, and Clay lay before him on his back. Although Justin felt chills, his skin was slick with sweat as his clothes clung to him, damp, and the covers stuck to his legs like plastic wrap. Justin found himself trembling as he tried to get his bearings. How had he not woken Clay up?

“Clay,” Justin called before he could stop himself. The boy stirred immediately with a sharp intake of breath. Even though Justin regretted it, genuine panic was impairing his judgment.

After a short groan, Clay croaked, “What is it?”

“I’m so sorry,” Justin uttered, swallowing the tears prickling his throat. “I—I n-need to use. Please—now.”

The boy yawned as he clicked on his lamp. “Okay.” He flung the covers off of them and Justin sprang from the bed, yanking his duffle bag from beneath the bed. After practically ripping the zipper open, he spread his gear across the floor and grabbed the mixing bottle. It was empty.

Justin looked back up at Clay. “I need water.”

Shaking his head, Clay said, “Wait.” He stepped over to the closet, pulling out a hand towel and two bottles. The first looked to be a water bottle, and as his boyfriend came back towards the bed, Justin saw that the other was a bottle of rubbing alcohol. He pulled a packet of something from his desk, and then sat in front of Justin before taking the mixing bottle and pouring the rubbing alcohol inside of it until it was around half full. Clay capped the bottle, swirled it around several times, then poured out the contents onto the towel, flinging the bottle several more times to dry it.

“What are you doing?” Justin demanded. He felt his skin continue to burn.

“Is there no cap for this needle?” Clay responded. Justin briskly shook his head. “Well,” the boy went on, “you shouldn’t need it for much longer, anyway.”

Clay held the needle over the towel and poured a bit of alcohol over it. Justin finally understood what he was doing.

“Jesus,” Justin sighed. He would have laughed—if not for every muscle fiber inside of him screaming _NOW NOW NOW NOW. _“When did you learn all this?”

His boyfriend didn’t reply. Instead, he took the last baggie of pills and asked, “How many pills did you use last time?”

“Three.” There were just two left.

Letting out a breath, Clay grabbed the spoon from Justin’s gear and folded the bag shut. He set it on the floor, and used the spoon to gradually crush the pills. The _crunch_ of the metal smashing the pills against the floor rattled against Justin’s eardrums and inside his head, and he could barely keep from twitching.

After pouring some of the alcohol over his hands, Clay then poured water, the crushed-up pills, and a bit of vitamin C powder into the freshly sterilized mixing bottle. Justin could only watch, entranced. The boy then grabbed the lighter, flicked it on, and held the tiny flame to the bottom of the bottle.

_God damn,_ Justin thought. Clay must have really loved him.

Is this what his love did to people?

Clay held the bottle steady for a few minutes. He then shut off the lighter and gently swirled the bottle around before taking the syringe and drawing a dose.

“How much have you been using?” the boy asked. Justin indicated with his thumb and finger. Clay drew slightly less than what Justin had shown.

“Have you been using the same foot?” Clay went on.

“Yes.”

“Show me the other one.” Justin obeyed, and Clay poured some of the alcohol between his toes.

“Clay,” Justin insisted, “I can do it.”

His boyfriend shook his head. “You’re shaking all over,” he uttered. “Just let me do it.”

Clay’s words chipped at the swell of emotions pounding inside of Justin’s chest, but they were all but strangled by the craving setting his muscles ablaze. Once the alcohol had dried, Clay grasped Justin’s foot and stuck the needle in between his larger toes. The action caught Justin off-guard, but before he could properly react, he found himself letting out a curse and a moan as he felt the liquid sanity cool his bloodstream.

He was faintly aware of Clay packing everything up and stashing everything back into the gym bag, but it all seemed so far away to Justin as he felt his skin cool and his trembling settle. Was Justin denying it—all this time? Was getting back to level, in reality, the high itself?

Before Justin could further ponder the relief he felt, he found Clay suddenly kneeling before him, the fury in his expression unsettling—and sobering.

“It’s barely four in the morning,” the boy sneered. “Finish the night on the couch.”

The anger in his boyfriend’s eyes quelled any protest Justin might have mustered. What right did he have to complain? He wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this. Frankly, Justin deserved far worse.

“I’m sorry,” Justin managed.

“I know,” the boy grumbled.

Clay slipped back into bed, clicking off his lamp. Justin pulled his blanket from the closet and lay across the couch.

As he tried to keep the guilt from heaving upwards into his throat, Justin began to understand the massive truth he had been trying to elude all this time—he needed to do so, _so_ much more in order to be worthy of Clay. And something of this magnitude might take a lifetime. Or more.

He just hoped to God that Clay would continue to give him a chance.

~ ~ ~

Matt had an early meeting that morning, and Lainie also had to drop into the firm for an urgent case, but she had left breakfast on the table before she’d gone. After she had awoken them with a knock and explained as much through the door, Justin and Clay came down into the kitchen, both groggy, and said little to each other as they ate and got ready for school.

When they set off in the car, Justin contemplated a completely silent ride, but he knew the anxiety would just bring on another craving sooner.

“So,” he began, “how long after I use will you—withhold cuddles?”

As Justin glanced over at Clay, he spotted a slight smile as the boy tried to look away. “I don’t know,” Jensen eventually said. “It’s, it’s not like I was mad _at _you, per se. I know we agreed and I knew what the plan was. I just—I don’t know. It just felt like I wasn’t supposed to, like, reward you for having to use. Or something.”

“It’s okay, I get it. I’m disgusting when I shoot up.”

“No,” Clay insisted, “that’s not it. I mean, it didn’t make me _happy _to do all of that for you, but—did you take all those precautions? Each time you used?”

“No,” Justin admitted.

“Right. So, I wasn’t just going to stand by and watch you get an infection. Or overdose.”

They reached a stop light. “When did you learn all that stuff?” Justin asked.

Clay looked over towards him. “Sheri sent me a few links.”

Justin met his gaze. “I’m sorry I made you—do all of that. I know it couldn’t have been easy.”

The boy took his hand and squeezed it for a moment. “It’s okay. I told you—I want to help.” He let go and looked back towards the road as the light turned green. “Fuck me if I screw all of this up,” Clay sighed.

Although he knew what his boyfriend meant, Justin couldn’t help smiling at the pun. “You won’t. _We _won’t.”

As they continued driving, Justin thought again of how lucky he was to have Clay and his family. He also couldn’t help but be impressed at how far for him Jensen appeared willing to go. It renewed his resolve to come through for him—to not disappoint the boy again—and to not push Clay so far out of his comfort zone. Justin wanted him to open up in other ways. Not like this. He wanted to be a good influence on him.

He wanted Clay’s parents to be proud of them. And, well, if not exactly proud—okay with them being together, at least, when the time came to tell them.

When they pulled into a spot on the school parking lot, Clay set the car in park and seemed to take a moment to brace himself. Justin watched him look out through the windshield.

“What’s wrong?” Justin asked.

The boy sighed. “I, I didn’t even think about Monty at all—this weekend. Word’s gotten out. I wonder how people might be—taking the news.” He glanced down at the steering wheel. “I probably should’ve tuned into that a bit more. Readied myself.”

Justin wanted to take the boy’s hand again, to squeeze it. Instead, he said, “I wish I had kept you distracted in a—much less stressful way.”

Clay nodded. “Yeah, you have brought quite a bit of stress into my life.” Justin swallowed, and the boy looked over at him, breathing a laugh. “I’m kidding!”

“I’m sorry—”

“Nope, stop,” the boy interrupted, waving his hand. “You don’t need to apologize again. Bad joke. Too soon.” He sighed, and looked back towards the school. “I’m just not looking forward to walking in on another Monday morning—not knowing what I’m in for.”

At that, Justin opened the door and stepped out of the car. With the door ajar, he looked back in at Clay. “Well, whatever happens—I got your back.” The boy smiled at him, and Justin smiled back.

“I know,” Clay said, opening his door.

As they shut their doors, Justin saw that Zach had parked a few spots down from them and was helping Alex get out of his car.

“Zach, I appreciate this,” Alex was saying, “but I’m never gonna learn to do this on my own if you don’t let me!”

Justin walked up to them. Zach was carrying two back packs as he helped Alex settle onto his cane. “We talked about this. Baby steps!”

“‘Sup, lovebirds,” Justin greeted.

Zach rolled his eyes as Alex smirked at him. “Back at ya,” Standall said.

Justin looked to see Clay come up behind him. He greeted Zach and Alex with a wave before saying, “I presume people are gonna be talking about what went down with Monty.”

Alex shrugged, accepting his backpack from Zach. “People are always talking.”

“Yeah,” Zach added as he followed Alex onto the sidewalk, “but it’s not too bad though, I don’t think.”

“Monty wasn’t the only one to make waves this weekend,” Alex went on.

“What do you mean?” Clay asked.

As they made for the school, eyes from all around seemed to be watching them as they approached. Justin spotted Jess trotting up to them as they neared the main entrance. They greeted her, and she gave Alex a quick peck on the lips. Justin averted his eyes, glancing towards Clay, who likewise shifted his attention elsewhere as soon as he made eye contact with Justin.

Jess turned towards Justin and Clay. “Oh my God, I’m glad I found you two.” She grinned at them. “I take it you two had a fun weekend?”

Justin looked at Clay again as he felt his own cheeks burn and they steered their eyes away from each other. Justin forced a laugh. “Uh—why, why would you say that?”

Alex and Zach were suppressing smiles behind Jess as she tapered her expression. “Well, I—never heard back from you. I kinda figured—you two were busy.”

Zach burst out laughing as Alex reached for Jess’ arm. “Jess, come on, let’s not—expose all of their business in front of the school.”

Justin could see Clay edging towards the door, clearly wanting to get away. Kids continued to look at them as they passed.

“No!” Jess insisted. “That’s not what I’m doing!” She turned back towards Justin. “Look, I—I know you two are trying to keep things on the down-low, but…” She sighed. “I thought you knew I was mostly kidding when I said go to Ryan for advice.”

It clicked for Justin as his gut shifted. _Shit, Ryan. _He shook his head. “I guess I should’ve known what I was doing.”

“Don’t sweat it too much,” Zach cut in. “It’ll blow over.”

Clay seemed resigned as he tried to avoid the random gazes and looks coming their way. “It’s okay,” he said, shaking his head. He started for the door, then turned back around to face them as he walked. “People are always gonna talk about something!”

When the boy disappeared, Justin let out another deep breath as Jess grasped his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know this probably wasn’t how you wanted to do things.”

“Yeah,” Justin admitted, “but I guess this way, when we do it officially, people aren’t gonna be surprised.”

Alex began walking ahead of them. “I think we’re all used to being social pariahs now, aren’t we?”

After splitting from the group, Justin made for his locker. As he walked, things seemed worse than right after the dance (probably because there were more kids at school this time) but not quite as bad as when the tapes first got out. When he rounded the corner before his locker, Justin spotted Tony waiting for him and he felt his stomach hitch once more.

“I hope you and Clay talked about this,” Tony said as he approached.

“Talked about what, exactly?” Justin asked, reaching to open his locker.

“Come on,” Tony went on, eyeing him, “you had to know Ryan was gonna do this.”

“Yeah, I—I guess I did.” Justin got his locker open. “And yeah, we—we did talk about it. Or mostly, we did. Before the Monty shit got in the way.”

“Well, they’re talking about that, too, but—I think people are trying to find something else to latch onto. You sure you’re both ready for that kind of attention?”

Justin shrugged, dropping his algebra book into his bag. “People were already paying attention to us. I’m just glad Bryce isn’t around anymore to stir up more shit.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, I’ll give you that. But, speaking of people not being around, did you hear Marcus was back this morning?”

Justin met Tony’s gaze. “No, I didn’t. I didn’t think he _was_ coming back.”

Padilla nodded. “Yeah, I don’t know all the details. Courtney might. I just saw him come in.”

“Huh. I imagine he’ll be lying low.” Justin shut his locker. “Well, anyway, you will help keep an eye on Clay, right?”

Tony smirked at him. “Bold of you to assume I haven’t already been.”

Managing a smirk back, Justin said, “I figured.”

After splitting off for their first periods, Justin trekked down the hall, trying to avoid the furtive looks and judge-y glances that came lobbing towards him. Despite what Clay had said, Justin knew things were still not great between them, and being outed like this was the last thing they needed. As he felt the wisps of a craving stroke the hair on his forearms, Justin understood—he and Clay had a shitty week ahead of them.

He just wished he knew who to really pray to so that they’d come through it together in one piece.

~ ~ ~

How the day was going left a lot to be desired. Justin sat through his early classes trying to ignore the curious looks and snarky laughter around him. It shouldn’t have annoyed him, but it did. Justin had been homeless, gotten addicted to drugs, and was in jail for a while—and the thing people latched onto was the fact that he might like guys, too?

Perhaps this was karma for him. For letting Bryce send out that picture of Hannah around the school. He couldn’t help thinking of that day when he sat across the classroom from her after their first date—when he tried to ignore her obvious shock and betrayal as the picture went out—and it did nothing to help the building itch beneath his skin.

He looked up from his desk to see Hannah standing before him. “Focus, Justin,” she said. “Forward, not back.”

The bell then rang, and she was gone. Justin gathered his things and made his way out of the classroom and into the hallway. As he walked, he seriously contemplated skipping lunch, which was gonna be even worse if his previous classes had been any indication. He wasn’t all that hungry, anyway.

Justin pulled out his phone to text Clay, _How u doing?_

Dots appeared before a near immediate response: _I’m okay. You?_

_Hangin in there_

_You gonna make it to the end of the day?_

_Yes, don’t worry_

_Please let me know otherwise_

Clay ended his text with a red heart emoji, which made Justin swell with gratitude. He sent a red heart back, and tried to ignore the tiny voice in his head asking if the boy really meant it.

“Justin!”

Looking up from his phone, Justin turned around to see Courtney trotting up behind him.

“Justin!” she greeted again as she caught up to him, smiling. “Hey, how are you?”

He offered her a polite smile back. “Hey, Courtney.”

“I’m glad I ran into you,” she went on, clutching her pink notebook to her chest. “I know you’re headed to lunch, but, regardless of what rumors might be going around, I just—wanted to offer a friendly ear. Just in case you needed it.” She shook her head. “I know Ryan can be—a little too eager sometimes. He can get carried away, so… Anyway, no judgments here, if you ever need to talk!”

Justin nodded. “Sure, thanks.”

Courtney gave a bright smile and patted his arm. “Well, see ya later, Justin!”

When she went on her way back from the direction she’d come, Justin turned to continue towards the cafeteria. As he thought of her, he wasn’t quite sure what to make of her olive branch, but then realized she had gone through a similar thing, and it looked like she’d come through to the other side all right. Maybe she _could _help, and he couldn’t imagine her spreading it all over the school like Ryan.

Justin ran into Scott as he neared the cafeteria.

“Justin, hey!” Reed greeted, coming to a stop.

“Hey,” Justin greeted back.

“How ya doing?”

Shrugging, Justin replied, “I’m okay. I’ve been better. You?”

“Yeah, I hear ya,” Scott echoed with a nod. “I’ve gotten a few death stares, but, nothing too gruesome. I’m still kinda waiting for that karmic punchline.”

Justin shook his head. “You did the right thing, Scott. And you were right. Monty didn’t deserve to die.”

Scott shrugged. “Yeah, well, he and his dad are both locked up, now, so kind of a crappy situation all around, I guess. I just wish people would just shut up about it and talk about something else.”

Justin eyed him. “Is that all you’ve heard?”

“Yeah, and, Marcus is back too, apparently, but I haven’t seen him.”

Scott glanced towards the direction he’d been going in before patting Justin’s arm. “I gotta run, but—thanks again for, for helping come to my rescue. I’ll see ya later, man.”

“See ya.”

Justin watched Scott head down the hallway briefly before continuing on his way himself. He wondered, if people were giving Scott about the same treatment as Justin, perhaps Reed was trying to tune it all out the same way. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that Scott would bring it up if he’d heard about what Ryan had posted.

After rounding the corner, he ran into Hannah once more, and it nearly made him jolt.

“Seriously,” she said, leaning against the wall, “Scott stealing Clay from you should be the least of your worries right now.”

Justin sighed before moving on. _Fuck_.

He managed to get his lunch tray and sat at a table by himself without anymore chance encounters. Another run-in and the trek to the cafeteria would’ve officially become _not _worth it. He started on his pizza—only to see Alex gradually approaching his table, tray in hand.

“Feel free to tell me to buzz off,” Alex began, setting his cane across the table, “but tell me now, before I get too settled.”

Justin chuckled. “Why would I do that?”

After setting his tray down in front of Justin, Alex sat down at the end of the bench before scooting down towards the middle. “I dunno. Something about the scowling expression on your face when you saw me kinda told me you wanted to be left alone.”

Justin laughed. “Sorry. Today’s been pretty shitty so far. I was just surprised to see you.”

“Yeah. Well, I had to take a makeup exam today, so that’s why I’m in this period. Honestly, I prefer this one—since the food tends to be better.”

When Alex offered him a smirk, Justin gave another brief laugh. “If you say so.”

They ate for a moment in quiet, with Alex starting in on his nachos. After a short while, when he took a sip of his juice pouch, he said, “So, I’ve spent a long time trying to remember things, and I guess it’s kind of ironic there’s this one thing I’ve been actively trying to forget. Again, feel free to tell me it’s none of my business, but after I saw you and Clay this morning—I couldn’t help but think again of you passed-out on Clay’s bed, nearly choking on your own vomit.”

Justin kept his gaze fixed towards his tray, although the back of his neck started to burn. Alex went on, “I don’t know what kind of treatment or help you got when you were arrested—if you got any at all, I’m purely speculating at this point—but Clay just seems off today, from what I’ve seen of him. Not like last week, even after the dance. I don’t really know how to explain it.”

Alex took a bite of his apple. “So, again—feel free to tell me to stick my nose out of it. I have other theories, but I won’t insult you anymore by speculating further. I think you’ve had enough with rumors for one day. And the day’s not even over yet.”

Justin sighed. “I was clean for a month, almost. For most of the time I was inside. I managed to score right as I got out and—I fooled myself into thinking that I wouldn’t fall back into temptation.”

He glanced up and was surprised to see a sympathetic expression on Alex’s face. “He found out.”

“Yeah,” Justin confirmed.

“Well, you two still seemed pretty civil with each other, so I’m guessing you’re working it out?”

Hesitating, Justin tried to cover it by taking another bite of his pizza. After swallowing, he answered, “I think so.”

“What’s the plan?”

“I’m weaning off it. Smaller hits. Wednesday night or Thursday will be my last use.”

“Do his parents know?”

Justin shook his head. “Clay said if this doesn’t work, we’ll tell them. He didn’t want to risk my adoption case.”

Alex took another bite of his apple. “It’s risky. Even if you’ve done it before—doesn’t mean it’ll be any easier.”

“I know. Clay’s done his homework, though. Figuratively, I mean.” Justin laughed. “Well, literally, too. He’s always done before I am.” Alex laughed with him. Justin continued, “He knew all about shooting up properly without me even telling him.”

“Wow,” Alex remarked. “That surprises me, but at the same time, it doesn’t.”

Justin regarded him for a moment. “Are you gonna tell Jess?”

Alex met his gaze, then let out an exhale. “I mean, she knows you’ve struggled. I doubt she knows you’re off the wagon, but, if she brings it up, I can’t promise I won’t say anything.”

“Please don’t bring it up,” Justin said. “I mean, okay, I get it—if she asks, I don’t expect you to lie. But I really don’t want her to know about—about this.”

“She still struggles sometimes, too, you know.” Alex took another bite of apple. “And she wouldn’t mind you knowing.”

“Really?”

“Nothing as bad as before the trial, or so she tells me, but yeah, she still has moments here and there. I get what you’re saying though, and I think that’s probably why she’s latched onto you and Clay so tightly.” Alex grinned at him. “I won’t go and say she talks about you two _obsessively—”_

“Does she?” Justin asked, grinning.

Alex shrugged. “Moderately above average. But yeah, I think she wants you to be happy so that, in a way, she can feel less guilty about being happy herself.”

Justin gave him a look. “What would she have to feel guilty for?”

“I don’t know,” Alex replied, shaking his head. “I’m just speculating off what she’s told me and what she’s said. Obviously, she still cares for you, and I know you still care for her. She told me about the talk you had during the dance. Before the craziness, I mean.”

Nodding, Justin asked, “Does it really not bother you?”

Alex shook his head. “No, it doesn’t. I’ve seen you and Clay, and I know what’s there—is real. And—okay, I’ll admit—from a purely self-serving standpoint, you and Clay being together substantially increases my odds with Jess,” he indicated an inch between his thumb and forefinger, “since there’s a small a part of me that’s _still _a little insecure that what we have compares to what you and her had.”

Justin laughed. “Dude, do _not_ stress about that. You make her happy. She’s said as much. No question. Besides, you’ve definitely done more for her than I have these past few months.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, though.” Alex ate another nacho. “Anyway, does anyone else know about your—using?”

“Sheri. She helped Clay with his—research, I guess.”

“Good. That makes me feel a little bit better.”

As they finished the rest of their meal, the bell rang not long afterwards. Justin made a point to not help or watch Alex get up from the table, and was happy to see him stand and gather his things without a hitch.

“Wow,” Justin said as they dumped their trays, “Zach has been smothering you, hasn’t he?”

Alex shook his head. “He means well, I get it. But I’m far from helpless, now. At least compared to how I used to be.”

Justin patted him on the back. As they left the cafeteria, Alex said, “You and Clay’ll get through his. Just do your part, and you’ll be fine.”

Grinning, Justin offered, “Thanks.”

“Jess and I are counting on you, too,” Alex went on, grinning back at him. “Our fate as a couple, at least.”

Justin laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No total chapter count yet for this part since I'm still not done with it yet lol...


	9. Two Steps Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin and Clay return home from school.

When the last bell of the day finally rang, Justin had been staring at the clock for the last seven minutes, unable to focus on the film droning on below it. As the blaring sound bestowed sweet mercy on his nerves, Justin gathered his stuff and shot out of the class ahead of everyone else.

Nearing his locker, Justin thought of Clay, and he wondered if he would pay Justin a visit at his locker, or if he should just make for the car and not wait for the boy. The pattern lately had been Clay finding him, and then they would walk together to the parking lot. Justin wasn’t sure if the trend would hold, though, given how the day had gone.

He hated being so unsure of everything. Another hit would have definitely helped.

_Fuck, _Justin cursed at himself, and focused on getting his locker open. He didn’t need to look around and see Hannah pop up again out of nowhere to harass him.

“Hey.”

Justin turned to see Clay standing before him, and he let out a deep sigh of relief. “Hey.” The feeling was so palpable, Justin could’ve hugged the boy, but he didn’t want to overdo it. Or draw attention.

“You okay?” his boyfriend asked.

“Yeah,” Justin replied, nodding. “I’m okay. You?”

“I’m fine. You just—looked a little stressed.”

Pulling his physics book from his locker, Justin said, “I’m just so ready to get out of here.”

Once Justin had what he needed, they made for the car and started their drive home. They talked a little about the attention they each got throughout the day, and how some kids had seemed to disapprove of what Clay did for Monty.

“I talked to Scott,” Clay was saying, “and apparently some girls told him off about helping Monty. No one confronted me about it, but—I got looks.”

Justin chuckled. “Everyone seemed to care more about the fact that I might be into dudes.”

The boy smiled towards him. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Justin laughed. “I mean, I’m already a hot mess in so many other ways! Why should _that _be the sticking point for people?”

Clay smirked at him. “I guess your reputation as a Lothario was your most preeminent.”

“Okay, Shakespeare,” Justin retorted, giving another brief laugh. “I may have been a man-whore, but I was a one-person-at-a-time man-whore, thank you very much.” When Clay laughed, Justin took a moment to breathe. “These days, though,” he went on, “I’m only one thing—and that’s a one-Clay person. And that’s all I want. Or need.”

It definitely sounded better in Justin’s head, but Clay still regarded him for a moment before looking back towards the road with a slight smile. “Actually, Lothario is from _Don Quixote_, not Shakespeare.”

Justin audibly sighed. “Oh my gosh.” His boyfriend laughed.

As they entered their neighborhood, Justin tried to relish the fact that he and Clay could still laugh together. When Clay pulled into their driveway, Justin watched him as he set the car in park and turned it off.

The boy looked back at him. “What is it?” Clay asked.

Justin swallowed. “Can I have a kiss?”

Slowly, his boyfriend smiled, then leaned towards him. Justin met him halfway and felt chills spread through his chest as their lips met. Justin felt the boy grasp behind his head and he savored Clay’s touch, his sweet taste on his lips, and his warm, soothing breath.

As they parted, Justin gazed back at the boy. “I love you,” he let slip out.

Clay gazed steadily back at him. “I love you, too.” He leaned in for another quick kiss before pulling back and stepping out of the car.

They entered the house, and as Justin followed the boy upstairs, he was immensely grateful to be back home. Clay had all but curbed his craving with his reassurances, and Justin found himself confident enough to tell that voice in his head to shove it. Once they were in Clay’s room, Justin set his book bag down by the couch as the boy set his down by the desk.

“Okay,” Clay said, standing before Justin, “real talk—how’s your craving?”

Justin sat on the couch. “I’m okay, really. It’s there, but it’s below the radar. I don’t need to use right now.”

His boyfriend nodded, letting out a breath. “All right. Well, then—I guess this’ll be our first real test: can you be in here alone—while I use the bathroom?”

Justin regarded him for a moment, then glanced towards the bed. Underneath it. “Are you sure you’re ready for that? So soon?”

Clay bit his lip. When the boy hesitated, Justin said, “Real talk—it’s okay that you still don’t trust me right now. I wouldn’t trust me, either, yet, with this.” He waved his palms towards the boy. “Invade my privacy, Clay. Do what you need to do. I don’t expect to have any this week. Frankly, you shouldn’t let me have it, either.”

Justin met the boy’s eyes. “Please,” he insisted, “take the bag with you—it’s the easiest way you can be sure I don’t use.”

Clay sighed, making a sour expression. “I want to trust you, Justin.”

Shaking his head, Justin said, “I want that, too, but—trust me after I’ve detoxed. Not before.”

Clay looked towards the bed. When he still seemed to hesitate, Justin went on, “Or—I guess you could make me stay in the bathroom with you.”

“Ugh, Jesus!” the boy groaned, and Justin laughed.

“What?” Justin asked, shrugging. “Everybody poops, Clay.”

“Oh my god,” the boy huffed, making for the bed. He yanked the bag from beneath it and grumbled something under his breath as he carried it towards the door.

“Hope everything comes out okay!” Justin called after him, and the look Clay shot him over his shoulder made Justin burst out with another laugh.

“Please occupy yourself with something other than my taking a dump, thanks,” the boy deadpanned, and shut the door behind him.

Chuckling, Justin decided to listen to some music to pass the time. He made for the lower drawer of Clay’s desk, as it was the last place Justin could remember seeing headphones, and once he had it open, found them shoved between a thick binder and the back of the drawer. He plugged them into his phone before settling back onto the couch and pulling the headphones over his ears.

Justin let his phone play on random as he lay across the couch. Before long, the door opened again as Clay came back into the room, and he gave Justin a surprised look before putting the gym bag back underneath the bed. Justin took off the headphones and sat up as Clay approached the couch.

“Did I do something?” Justin asked.

Clay sat beside him and shook his head. “No—no, you didn’t. I just—I’d forgotten where I put those. I, I haven’t used them since—since listening to the tapes. For the first time.”

“Shit,” Justin sighed, unplugging the headphones from his phone, “sorry. I figured I’d listen to some music, that’s all.”

The boy shook his head again. “No, really,” he insisted, plugging the headphones back in, “it’s okay. They’re—perfectly good headphones, still.”

Clay smiled at him. “What kind of music _do _you listen to?”

Justin shrugged, handing the boy his phone. “I listen to everything, pretty much. Depending on my mood.”

“Huh,” Clay acknowledged, taking Justin’s phone. As he started to tap and swipe through it, the boy went on, “Okay, I’m seeing a lot of top-forty, here.” He gave Justin a look. “Justin Bieber—really?”

“What?” Justin admitted with a grin. “Most of his shit is annoyingly catchy. Him, and Selena Gomez, too.”

His boyfriend nodded. “All right, I’ll give you Selena Gomez. She _can _be annoyingly catchy. I’m starting to see a slightly disconcerting pattern, here, though.” Clay grinned as he continued swiping through the phone. “You’ve got a thing for Sam Smith, don’t you?”

“What? I like his voice!” Justin exclaimed. “Adele, too.”

“Yes, clearly, you like ballads.” He sighed. “Your tastes—are _so_ basic.”

Justin laughed. “I’m a basic bitch, baby!” The boy grinned back at him.

As Clay continued to swipe, his expression turned serious. “Hmm, what’s this?”

_Oh shit_. Justin didn’t think Clay would go that far back. He lunged at the boy, who was far quicker to react as he kept Justin’s phone beyond reach.

“No!” Justin pleaded, sprawling over Clay. “Give it back! You weren’t supposed to see that!”

The boy laughed. “What’s with all these Disney songs in your play history?” Justin desperately reached for his phone, but Clay merely giggled as he continued to hold him off. “Don’t tell me,” he went on, “Justin Foley—is a fan of _show tunes_?”

Justin whined, giving up and letting himself collapse onto Clay. “Don’t judge me,” he murmured.

His boyfriend giggled for another moment. “You’re just a big softie at heart, aren’t you?” the boy cooed.

“Nah uh,” Justin grunted, and Clay laughed.

Clay set the phone and headphones on the floor before wrapping his arms around Justin, who settled into his boyfriend’s embrace.

“When you said I shouldn’t trust you yet,” the boy began, “you—were you speaking from experience? With your mom?”

Justin inhaled deeply, then exhaled into Clay’s chest. “Yeah, I—I guess so. She lied so often, I sometimes wondered if—if she was fooling herself, even. Addicts lie, Clay. And—I’m an addict, too.”

He sat up slightly so he could look at Clay. “It’s why I worry—after all this is done, do you really think you can get past this? Do you really think you can trust me again?”

As the boy met his gaze, he reached up and began to caress Justin’s cheek. He then leaned upwards to close the gap between them and started to kiss him. Clay kneaded his lips slowly, sweetly, and slipped in the occasional mischievous tongue, before drawing back.

“If you tell me you’re making the effort,” the boy uttered, “if you promise me you’ll work to stay clean, I _will _believe you. You just have to follow through on those promises, and come to me when it gets hard. That’s all I ask. I don’t expect you to be perfect—just honest.”

Clay continued to stroke his cheek. “Knowing you’re an addict—doesn’t make me love you any less. And I don’t believe you’re a liar, Justin. Not at heart, anyway.”

Justin sniffled, and swallowed, feeling the back of his throat prickle. “I promise,” he whispered, “I’ll work every single day—to be worthy of you again.”

His boyfriend shook his head and gave Justin another peck on the lips. “You’re already worthy,” Clay insisted. “You just gotta act like it.” He grinned. “Just pick one of your top five Disney princesses to emulate.”

Justin laughed. “I only have a top three. And—it’s Mulan.”

“Oh, not Moana, then?”

Grinning, Justin replied, “Shit, I forgot about her. Now I have to rethink everything.”

Clay chuckled before glancing towards the closet. “Here, let me show you something.”

Justin sat back to let the boy step towards the closet. Clay set a few clothes to the side before digging deeper into the closet, then backtracked to take hold of one of the jeans again. As Jensen reached into the pocket, Justin felt his heart sink as he remembered yet another grievous error.

The boy pulled a slip of paper from the jeans. Clay was still facing the closet, so Justin couldn’t see his face entirely, but he could still see the anger and disappointment emanating from the boy’s tensed shoulders as he lowered his head and unfolded the piece of paper.

“What is this?” Clay demanded, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Fuck,” Justin sighed, springing from the couch—then gingerly approaching the boy. “I swear—I completely forgot I had that, or I would’ve gotten rid of it.”

Jensen turned to face him, his chest quivering as he held out the number towards Justin. _“What is this?”_ he repeated. _“Whose number is this?”_

Justin shook his head. “When I was out yesterday, I ran into someone who was on the inside with me. He—he helped me out a lot, but—he was also the one who gave me the pills.” When Clay shut his eyes and began shaking his head, Justin reached out to grasp his boyfriend’s shoulders.

“I swear to you,” Justin went on, “I wasn’t keeping it intentionally.” When Clay opened his eyes again, Justin waved towards his phone on the floor. “I never even programmed it in. I didn’t really want to talk to him when I saw him, but—I just felt like I owed him.”

Clay eyed him warily. “Who is he? Is he like Bryce, then?”

Justin looked towards the floor as he thought for a moment. “No, I—I don’t think so. Ren’s not like that. He’s not like Bryce.”

As Clay started shaking his head again, Justin wanted to burst into tears. Two steps forward—twenty steps back.

“Please, Clay,” Justin begged. “Yesterday—there was so much going through my head. I completely forgot I had that—I swear to you.”

His boyfriend seemed to take a moment to breathe as he shut his eyes. Eventually, he started to nod. “Okay,” he said slowly, “okay. All right. That’s—that’s reasonable. I’m, I’m sorry I—I jumped to conclusions.”

Justin shook his head. “Get rid of it. I don’t want it.” He knelt down to grab his phone and handed it to Clay. “Check it. I never saved it.”

Eyeing the phone, the boy hesitated before taking the phone. Justin watched him dial the number in, then cleared it from the screen before crumpling the paper in his fist.

“Fine,” Clay announced.

“I’m sorry—”

“It’s fine,” the boy interrupted, handing Justin back the phone.

As Clay stepped towards the desk, Justin asked, “What was it—you wanted to show me?”

The boy merely sat at the desk and started unzipping his backpack. “Never mind,” he grunted. “I’ll show you some other time.”

Justin tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Okay.”

He sat at the couch, and reached to unzip his own backpack. Two steps forward—twenty steps back.

~ ~ ~

Justin and Clay worked on their homework largely in silence until it was time for dinner. Although it had been hard for him to focus, Justin powered through his work, afraid to disturb the boy as he worked at the desk. Matt and Lainie came home at around the same time, and they called up to announce that they’d brought home takeout.

“You go ahead,” Clay said without looking up from his work. “I’ll be down once I’m done.”

Justin merely said okay, not wanting to argue, and a flurry of thoughts went through his mind as he stepped out of the room. As he gingerly made his way down the stairwell, he wondered if Clay was truly almost done, and if he’d really be down soon. Or, if the boy was actually trying to get rid of him so that he could have a few moments in peace. Or—perhaps Jensen was punishing him, making Justin face his parents alone. Or maybe, Clay just didn’t want them catching onto any weirdness between them if they were to come down together.

He hated being so unsure. A hit would have helped him regain some of his confidence.

_No._ Justin grunted a sigh to himself when he rounded the bottom of the stairs and walked towards the kitchen. It was his own damn fault he was in this mess in the first place. Justin had to do better. He _had _to.

He helped Clay’s parents set the table, saying that the boy would be down soon when he finished his homework. It was Justin’s best guess, and he was relieved when neither Matt or Lainie seemed to find it unusual. They’d brought home a fried-chicken dinner with all the trimmings, and the smell piqued Justin’s appetite as they set out everything on the dining table. He hoped the smell would waft upstairs—and do the same for Clay.

As they started to eat, Matt continued telling a story he must’ve started with Lainie when she got home. Justin ate in polite silence, half listening to their conversation while slightly regretting sitting with his back to the stairs. He wanted to be able to see Clay coming down the stairs and not be surprised or jump when he appeared. The boy could be a ninja sometimes inside the house.

When Matt finished talking about some of the staff changes in his department, Lainie turned to Justin. “How was school today?” she asked.

Justin looked up, taking a bite of his biscuit. “It wasn’t so bad,” he replied. “Clay and I—got looks from people, and some kids were talking about what happened with Monty, but it wasn’t as bad as after the dance.”

Lainie made an appreciative sound as Matt said, “I can’t imagine things being as severe as it was after that.”

“As severe as what?” Clay asked, appearing from nowhere, and Justin barely kept himself from jolting. _Damn it, ninja. _The boy took a seat behind the empty plate beside Justin and started to serve himself.

“Justin was telling us how school went today,” Lainie responded.

“Oh, right,” Clay went on, scooping some green beans onto his plate. “Well, not having cops everywhere definitely made a difference, but, the place still felt kind of like a zoo.”

“That’s just the typical high-school experience, is it not?” Matt interjected, and Clay agreed, chuckling.

The boy was avoiding looking at Justin, so he tried to continue eating without making it so obvious he was bothered. They were quiet for a short moment before Lainie went on talking about some of the meetings her old firm was setting up on behalf of the school district.

“Wait,” Clay cut in, “there’s not gonna be more lawsuits or anything, are there?”

Lainie shook her head. “No, nothing like that. This just goes back to the additional advocacy Dennis and I have been pushing for.”

“Is this like crossing the picket line for you, almost?” Matt asked.

Lainie smiled. “In a way, I suppose. It is a nice change, though, being on the other side this time.”

She turned to Justin. “Speaking of which, Justin, I hope we might find time this week to go over a few additional details regarding your hearing.”

Looking up at her, Justin nodded. “Okay.”

After a short moment, Clay interjected, “Justin still has a lot of make-up work this week, so it—might need to wait. If it can.”

Justin glanced at the boy, who met his eyes briefly as Lainie said, “That’s all right. We still have time.”

They finished dinner, and Justin helped Clay and Matt clear the table before heading back upstairs. The boy began checking over the work Justin had completed so far, hopping between his own homework, and it was late into the evening before they finally finished.

Eyeing Clay across the couch, Justin closed his notebook after the boy handed him back his work.

“Clay,” Justin began, “are you okay?”

He met Justin’s gaze. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

The boy exhaled. “Yeah, I am.” He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to get so angry, earlier.”

“I triggered you.”

“No,” Clay insisted, “I let myself get triggered. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions like that.”

He packed up his homework and set his backpack at the desk while Justin did the same by the couch. When Clay took a seat on the side chair, he leaned towards Justin.

“So, where is your craving at?”

Justin could feel that itch clawing beneath his skin all over. “I—I think I’d rather use now. Rather—than having to wake you up again at three in the morning.”

His boyfriend shook his head. “I didn’t mind that, really.”

“We can’t cuddle though after I use, though, right?”

As Clay looked at him, he seemed to grow sad. “Yeah, we—we can’t.”

When the boy yawned, Justin stood up and made for the bed. “Let’s just get this over with,” he said, pulling the bag from beneath the bed, “so you can get ready for bed. And not have to worry about me using when you’re in the bathroom.”

After a moment, Clay said, “All right,” seemingly stoic.

When Justin sat back at the couch closest to the boy, he pulled his gear from the bag and Clay helped sanitize the needle and everything like that morning before drawing another dose. He injected Justin between the toes once more, and Justin could see that it was very slightly less than the last dose.

Justin couldn’t help sighing, feeling the rush of _relief _flow through him and a certain weightlessness lift his shoulders. Clay moved quickly to pack everything back up in the gym bag and replaced it beneath the bed.

“Why don’t you go first?” Clay said.

Nodding his head, Justin rose from the couch and grabbed a towel from the closet before heading to the bathroom. The shower helped reset his nerves, and brushing his teeth reinforced the semblance of normal he had been so desperate to cling to throughout the day.

When Justin returned to the room, Clay left to do the same, and while the boy was gone, Justin grabbed the spare sheets from the closet and settled onto the couch. He took the time to pull _Heart of Darkness _from his backpack and read a little further until the boy returned a while later. Clay put on underwear and a shirt for his nightwear before kneeling beside the couch in front of Justin.

He met his boyfriend’s eyes as he reached to caress Justin’s cheek.

“I’m counting on you,” Clay whispered.

Justin nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I know.”

Clay kissed his hair before drawing back and uttering, “Good night.”

“Night,” Justin breathed in return.

He watched him settle into bed before clicking off the light. As moonlight filled the darkness, Justin turned to gaze up at the ceiling, then tried to focus on the sound of the boy’s breathing from across the room.

It was the only thing Justin could use to ease his disquiet.


	10. Tuesday Turmoil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin and Clay hit an unexpected obstacle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part sets up a potential work that would occur outside of the series... an AU of an AU, lol. If you're just starting, this might also be a good summary of the series so far, but this is the start of much of the payoff I setup in High Hopes. Also, I may have to slow my roll for a bit, because I'm running out of buffer, and still don't have a total chapter count yet!

A shout startled Justin, forcing him awake. Despite the grogginess constricting his eyelids, Justin tried to focus through the darkness and looked across the room towards the bed. He heard Clay struggling for breath between incoherent and frantic mumblings, and another weary cry caused Justin to spring from the couch and practically leap towards the boy.

“Clay,” Justin called, settling on the edge of the bed as he reached to still him. When Clay merely continued to tremble and moan, Justin said his name again, but it took a firm jolt before the boy sprung upwards with a loud gasp for air.

Gripping Clay’s shoulders, Justin tried to meet his eyes as he insisted, “You’re okay, Clay. You’re fine—you’re safe. Everything’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

The boy was sweating buckets and still couldn’t seem to breathe. Justin went on, “Breathe, Clay. Breathe. Deep, long breaths—just breathe. In—out. Breathe.”

After several moments, Clay stilled, and his breathing steadied. As Justin felt a tear escape down his cheek, he embraced the boy. “I’m so sorry,” Justin uttered, squeezing him tightly.

Clay hugged him back. “No,” he sighed, “you—this wasn’t you. This wasn’t you. Don’t apologize.”

They held each other for a short while. Clay then prompted Justin to lie back, and they settled beneath the covers beside each other. The boy nestled into Justin’s embrace, laying an arm across his chest and his head on his shoulder while Justin held him tightly in return.

“You had another nightmare,” Justin whispered. When Clay didn’t respond, he went on, “Because I wasn’t next to you.”

“I’ll admit,” the boy uttered, “you do tend to keep the monsters away.”

Justin swallowed. “How long have you been having them?”

Clay sniffled. “I think I’ve—always had nightmares.” He forced an airy laugh, and Justin squeezed him. “Seriously, though, they—they’ve been more frequent since, since Hannah… But they come and go.”

Justin took Clay’s hand. “It seems like each night we don’t share the bed, you have a nightmare.”

Chuckling, the boy replied, “Yeah, it—it looks like that, doesn’t it?”

“Are they always about Hannah?”

Clay shook his head against Justin’s shoulder. “No, not always.”

“What about?”

His boyfriend merely breathed for a moment. “Different things,” Clay eventually answered. He looked up at Justin, who met his gaze. “Spoon me—so we can get back to sleep?”

“Okay,” Justin agreed, and wrapped his arms around the boy’s chest when he turned away from Justin.

Clay held onto Justin’s arms. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Justin whispered into the back of the boy’s neck.

He thought of synchronizing his breathing with Clay’s in order to get back to sleep, but Justin was surprised at how soon his boy’s breaths had returned to that rhythmic pattern of slumber.

Maybe Clay truly did feel safe with him.

Come hell or high water, Justin was going to prove him right.

~ ~ ~

Their morning came and went mostly as normal, with both of Clay’s parents joining them at the table for breakfast. When Justin and Clay set off for school, though, Justin couldn’t shake the sense that a cloud was lingering over them, and he wasn’t quite sure how to act around the boy. They said little as they drove, then parked and walked into school like two former enemies now living together and casually tolerating each other.

Clay looked at him as they stopped at the juncture in the hallway. “See you soon,” he said, patting Justin’s arm before setting off down the hall.

Okay, maybe things weren’t quite that bad, but without the proper dose of courage flowing through his bloodstream, Justin realized how much the drugs really colored his perception of everything. He wanted to believe that Clay wasn’t ashamed of him—that his boyfriend really loved him—and everything was going to be okay. He just had no idea how to convince himself without a little help.

As Justin started for his locker, Hannah came up from behind him and began walking with him.

“You’re in the early stages of withdrawal,” she remarked.

Justin scoffed, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“You’re gonna get through this,” Hannah went on.

Chuckling, Justin reached his locker and started spinning in his combination. “I’m not gonna miss this when I’m sober.”

“You and me both,” Hannah agreed with a smile.

Making it through home room and his first two periods, Justin managed to focus on his work and lecture while his craving thrummed in his ears for most of the morning. When he was walking towards his locker before third, Justin felt his phone vibrate in his pocket to find a text from Clay: three red-heart emoji in a row. Unable to keep from grinning, Justin messaged him back,_ Love u too_, and was so damn grateful the boy somehow just _knew _he needed a pick-me-up.

As Justin neared his locker, he found Jess there waiting for him.

“Hey,” she greeted with a gentle smile.

“Hey,” Justin greeted in return.

“How’s it going?” Jess went on, moving aside for him.

Justin started to grin as he opened his locker. Jess was never really a _how’s-it-going? _kind of girl. “Not bad,” Justin answered, obliging her. “What’s up?”

Jess shook her head. “Sorry,” she said, forcing a quiet laugh, “I don’t mean to be weird. I was just—I wanted to check in on you. You know, after yesterday.”

Nodding, Justin got his locker open. “Yeah, I think—things have died down some today. I mean, there are still whispers, and looks, but nothing awful.”

As he swapped his English notebook for his physics book, Jess said, “I know I’m probably sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong—so _please _feel free to tell me to butt out—but Clay just seems, I dunno, kinda down.”

At that, Justin swallowed and met Jess’ gaze. “How down?”

Jess clutched her binder to her chest. “Okay, okay, maybe—maybe not _down _down, but different, I guess. Different from last week, at least. I thought it was because of Ryan spilling the beans so I tried to talk to him in class, but he immediately put up a front when I got near him and so I didn’t try to pry.”

She sighed. “I’m just worried about—about the attention getting to him.”

Justin let out a deep breath. “It’s not that,” he said, looking back towards his locker, “not all of it, anyway. We—we had a fight. A pretty bad one.”

Jess softened her expression. “Oh no!” she intoned.

He looked back at her. “We, we talked, though. We’re working through it—I think.” As she continued to look at him, he pulled his physics notes from his locker and dropped them in his backpack. He really, _really _didn’t want to lie to her, but he didn’t want to shut her out, either.

“It’s okay,” Jess said, “it’s none of my business.”

Justin shook his head. “No,” he insisted, “I was stupid.” He forced a smile and shrugged. “It was my fault—obviously. Surprise, surprise.” Jess grasped his arm for a moment. “I was stupid, and didn’t tell him—about something that could affect my adoption. He found out, and got really angry—rightfully so—because I was selfish. Because I was ashamed.”

He shut his locker and slid his book bag back on. “Anyway,” Justin went on, “we talked, and he’s working on a way so that—it doesn’t affect my hearing.”

Jess began walking with him. “I’m guessing this hearing means you have to go to court again?”

“Kind of. It’s where the Jensens will have to convince a judge to let them—officially adopt me. Or the official start of it, at least.”

“Right,” Jess said, nodding. “Well, I can see how this would be really important to Clay.” She looked at Justin. “But I could see how, how opening up about your past can be—difficult.”

They rounded the corner of the hallway. “Clay obviously loves you,” Jess went on, “and that’s what couples do, every now and then—they disagree. They argue. They fight. You’ll get through this.” She smiled. “I believe in you two. Just be real with each other, and don’t let your past shroud all the progress you’ve made.”

As they neared the split in the hallway, Justin sighed, but managed a smile. “Easier said than done.”

Jess rubbed his arm again. “I know. Believe me.” She grinned. “But—you deserve to be happy, though! If anything, can you do that for me?”

Justin laughed. “Yeah, okay—yeah, I think I can do that.”

“I’m gonna hold you to it,” she said, and turned to head down the hallway.

As Justin watched her walk away, he swallowed. If he needed a reminder of yet another reason to get sober—he just got it. Fuck all mattered if he were to let Jess down again, too.

If only he could stop making the same mistakes over and over again. With the people he loved.

~ ~ ~

Justin made it through another lunch period solo. After dumping his tray, he decided to stop by Clay’s locker and chance seeing the boy as his craving did not seem to be going down without a fight. After spotting Clay at his locker, Justin tried to slow his approach as he found himself practically trotting down the hallway.

Clay saw him as he approached. “Hey,” he said as Justin reached him.

“Hey.”

He gave Justin another once-over. “How are you feeling?”

Trying not to sigh, Justin replied, “I’ve been better.” He should’ve known Clay would see right through him. “I, I really don’t want to, but—I think I need another dose when we get home.”

His boyfriend slowed his arm as he pulled a book from his locker. Gradually, he started to nod. “It’s a much shorter window than yesterday,” Clay remarked. “Any idea why?”

“I think the withdrawal is starting,” Justin said quietly, leaning in towards the boy.

Clay sighed. “Even though you’re still using, technically?”

Justin shook his head. “You haven’t been giving me as much.”

“Right, but that was the plan, wasn’t it?”

“And my tolerance is probably rising.”

“Clay!”

They looked to see Scott quickly coming up to them. He nodded at Justin, who took a step back from Clay as Reed came to a stop before them.

“I’ve done fucked up,” Scott drawled, shaking his head as he handed Clay a stapled set of papers.

The boy’s jaw dropped as he accepted and examined what Scott had presented him. “You got a _D _on your draft?”

Reed continued shaking his head. “Me stupid.”

Clay flipped open the paper and seemed to start skimming through it. “What the hell?” he remarked. “This isn’t what we worked on!”

Scott sighed. “I know! But—you said, take a chance, so I—did.”

The boy’s eyes flared. “I _said_ push your ideas a little further. And tie it all back to your thesis, which is _supposed_ to center on satire and irony, I thought.” He flipped over another page. _“This _is practically verbal diarrhea over every little thing in Chaucer’s poems! You’re all over the place!”

Clasping his hands before Clay, Scott begged, _“Please_ help me. Mr. Ray’s only giving me a day to redo this so that it doesn’t drag down my average for the final. _Please.”_

Sighing, Clay glanced over at Justin. “After school, I’m assuming?” the boy responded.

“Yeah,” Scott agreed, “if that’s easiest.”

“Actually,” Justin cut in, and they both looked at him, “Clay, what about our, our—ice cream?”

Justin wanted to smack himself as the boy gave him a look and Scott laughed. “You both were gonna get ice cream after school?”

“Grocery shopping,” Clay corrected, his cheeks reddening slightly, “but actually, _Sheri, _asked if she could borrow the next issue of, um, _Alien Killer Robots,_ after school, so—_Justin,_ you can meet her at home, instead.”

Scott gave Clay an amused look. “Sheri reads comics?”

The boy nodded. “Yup. So, we’re good to meet at the library, if you’re good with that.”

Reed spread his hands apart and waved them towards Clay, as if in worship. “Thank you, Clay. You’re my hero, dude. Again. A true life-saver.” He patted both Clay and Justin on the back before setting off down the hall.

When Justin looked back at Clay, the boy rolled his eyes at him. “Ice cream?” he chided. _“Really?”_

Justin snorted a laugh. “I’m sorry! I’m off my game, okay?”

His boyfriend shook his head and started to smirk. “How can you be so good and so bad at lying at the same time?”

“I thought you were trying to get out of it,” Justin huffed.

“No, not really,” Clay said, pulling another book into his backpack.

“Why couldn’t I just join you?”

“Because,” Clay replied, shutting his locker. “You need to use—and I need to focus. Clearly, I did a shitty job helping him the last time, so…”

As they started to walk, Justin said, “So you’re gonna have Sheri watch me as I use?”

“No—I’m gonna have Sheri keep you company until, hopefully, when I get home. I meant it when I said I don’t want you using without me there.”

Justin let his shoulders drop. “All right.”

The boy smiled at him, and patted his shoulder. “Besides, I still haven’t figured out how to tell Sheri about us—so now _you _get to do that!”

“What?” Justin scoffed, grinning. _“Me?_ I told Zach, and Alex!”

Clay shook his head. “Zach figured it out. And Jess told Alex, so, those don’t count.”

Justin tapered his grin into a smirk. “I guess this is what I get, then, for signing up for ‘Clay-Jensen-bossing-me-around’ week, huh?”

“You’re damn right,” Clay agreed, and they laughed.

~ ~ ~

After the last bell of the day rang, Justin retrieved his things from his locker and made for the parking lot. He texted Sheri to meet him at the car, only for her to text back, _My last period is my free period. I’m already at the house._

“Well, shit,” Justin sighed as he neared Clay’s Prius. He got into the driver’s seat and set off, running through a few scenarios in his head on how to tell Sheri about him and Clay. He wasn’t really nervous about telling her, but it was an easier concern to latch onto as opposed to how he was going to resist the needle when he got back to Clay’s room.

He pulled into the Jensens’ driveway without seeing Sheri on the porch. As he got out of the car, he wondered if she was already in the house. Was she following window protocol again even though no one was home?

Justin made his way upstairs and opened the door to Clay’s room to find Sheri chilling on the couch, midway through an issue of _Alien Killer Robots._

“There you are,” Sheri greeted, looking up from the comic.

“Hey Sheri,” Justin said, and set his book bag down by the coffee table.

“Before you ask,” she went on, “no, you do not get to use while I’m here, and Clay gave me express permission to kick your butt if you try.”

Justin chuckled. “Well, he obviously knows me so well. I would never hit a girl, so…”

Sheri smiled at him, setting the comic aside. When Justin sat at the side chair, she shifted down the couch towards him.

“Seriously, though,” she said, “how’re you doing?”

Taking a deep breath, Justin shrugged. “I’m okay, I guess. The craving’s been picking at me all over the whole day, but it’s been tolerable.” He started to fiddle with the Pinocchio figure on the coffee table. “Even though I’m not looking forward to detoxing again, I know I’ll be glad to be done with it.”

Sheri made an appreciative sound. “I wish I could tell you it’s easier the second time around, but, I don’t wanna bullshit you.”

Justin grinned. “Gee, thanks.”

She grinned back at him. “I just don’t want you biting Clay’s head off too hard when the time comes.”

Justin held up a palm. “I was relatively nice to you, wasn’t I?”

“Well, I guess if you count bargaining for more drugs as nice, sure.” They laughed, and after a moment, Sheri continued, “Anyway, Clay said you had news for me—what news, exactly?”

_Of course._ Jensen was not letting him off the hook that easily. Justin opened his mouth to speak, then immediately closed it again. _Shit._ After a second of feeling his face burn, Justin managed, “So, I—I don’t know if you’ve heard anything at school, or saw what Ryan posted, but—the rumors are true.”

Sheri shook her head. “What rumors?”

Justin took a deep breath, and let himself deflate as he stuck the Pinocchio back on the table. “I’m pansexual. And Clay is bi. And we—we’re together. Like, legit, together. Dating.”

Gaping at him, Sheri gasped, “No _way!” _She let out a squeal. “Oh my _God!”_ She leapt towards Justin and hugged him as he burst out laughing and hugged her back.

“What the hell!” she exclaimed, parting from him and sitting back on the couch. “Why did that boy say nothing to me?”

Justin shrugged. “We, like—we haven’t officially announced it or anything. And he’d been meaning to tell you, but… You know.”

Sheri continued to beam at him. “Oh my God,” she repeated, “this is amazing. I didn’t hear any of those rumors, but I’ve been tuning out most of that gossip ever since the dance.” She grasped his knee. “You have to tell me everything!”

“Jesus,” Justin sighed, “where to start?”

He decided to summarize a bit of his time with Clay right before he was arrested, skipping over the night at Bryce’s house, and how they wound up on a not-date at the Crestmont before the school trial’s verdict. He then went over how Clay and his mom visited him while he was in juvie, then covered how the adoption nearly threw a wrench in everything before the Spring Fling. When Tyler’s actions helped put everything into perspective, Justin finished with Clay taking him to Eisenhower Park.

Sheri was grinning at him. “Oh my God,” she repeated. “I knew he was such a romantic. I _knew _it!” She tapered her expression. “Did he tell you we almost had a thing?”

Justin gaped at her before grinning. “No! When?” he exclaimed.

Holding up her hands, Sheri replied, “Don’t worry, it _barely _even happened. It was _way _before, like before juvie for me, when I thought he’d heard my tape, but he hadn’t, yet. I’m sure you can guess how that went when I admitted it.”

Justin nodded, “Yeah, I can. I’m not one to talk, though.”

“I know, right!” Sheri grinned at him again. “Wait, so—do his parents know?”

“No, not yet.”

“Are you waiting until after the adoption to tell them?”

Shaking his head, Justin answered, “We haven’t really discussed it yet, but—I don’t think so.”

“Are you both worried how they might react?”

Justin shrugged. “Maybe.”

Sheri sat back against the couch. “Is that why you haven’t ‘gone public,’ yet, so to speak? ‘Cause people might find it weird because of the adoption?” She scoffed. “I don’t. Same-sex couples have had to jump through all kinds of hoops to get the same treatment as straight ones. If even. I read about this one couple who adopted the other so that he could get medical coverage for his partner’s cancer treatment.”

“Wow,” Justin remarked. “I haven’t even thought that far yet, but, it was a little weird for Clay at first—after his parents brought up the idea—but it never changed how I felt for him.”

“Aww,” Sheri cooed. “Do you _love _Clay?” she gushed.

Justin suppressed a laugh as he felt his cheeks burn. “Yeah, I do.”

She reached over for the comic and smacked it across Justin’s thigh. “Then why the hell are you still using drugs!” she demanded.

The door opened, which shot a surge of panic through Justin’s stomach. Luckily, as he and Sheri spun towards the door, it was only Clay who entered.

“Oh shit,” Sheri breathed as Justin sighed in relief. “That’s the problem with Priuses,” she went on. “You can’t hear them coming.”

Clay chuckled as he shut the door. “Hey, go easy on him,” the boy said. “Trust me—we’ve already been through the wringer on that front. Also, Scott doesn’t drive a Prius, so you have no excuse.”

“Oh, right,” Sheri said, standing to meet Clay. “Look, I was just messing, anyways, but…” When she reached the boy, she smacked him with the comic, too.

“Hey!” the boy protested as Justin laughed.

Sheri looked to be feigning indignation. “How I am _just _hearing about you two now?”

The boy eyed Justin while setting his book bag down by the desk. “Admittedly, we’ve been taking our time on that front.”

“But Ryan still knew before I did,” Sheri pressed. She was trying to look pissed, but was barely suppressing a smile.

“Technically,” Justin said, “I didn’t tell Ryan anything. He just inferred. Then blabbed.”

“Mm hmm,” Sheri uttered, “I see how it is.” She rubbed Clay’s arm, then Justin’s shoulder. “Well, I need to get going, but I’ll see you two later this week.” She looked towards Clay. “I’ll bring the supplies—as discussed.”

Clay waved at her. “Thanks again, Sheri.”

“See ya, Sheri.”

After Sheri left the room and shut the door behind her, Clay sat at the desk—and started to hunch in his chair. He was avoiding eye contact with Justin, and seemed intent to look out of the window instead.

“Clay,” Justin began, “what’s wrong?”

The boy looked towards him. He seemed—sheepish. Guilty, even. “How’s your craving?”

Justin regarded him for a moment. “I could go without, I think, for a little while longer—if you tell me what’s wrong.”

His boyfriend sighed and looked back towards the window. “Something happened,” he said, tapping the desk a few times, “but I don’t know if I should tell you. Right this moment, I mean. You know, while—I shouldn’t be adding to your stress.”

Justin scoffed. “Gee, well, now you _have_ to tell me.” He forced a grin.

When Clay met his eyes, he didn’t smile back at him. Instead, he stood up, and made for the couch. “You know what—I _will _tell you. It’s not a big deal, it didn’t mean anything to me—so I’ll just tell you.”

Justin watched the boy as he sat on the couch. After a moment, when Clay didn’t say anything, Justin pressed, “Okay? Tell me what?”

He managed another grin as he looked towards his boyfriend, who seemed to be bracing himself as he gazed towards the bed. Finally, Clay said, “Scott—made a move on me. Just now.”

Justin felt the amusement fall from his face. _“Huh?” _he grunted, which was all he could manage. _That son of a bitch._ “What kind of move?”

With embarrassment stretching his features, Clay finally made eye contact again and answered, “He kissed me,” before hanging his head.

Hannah appeared before the door. “Told ya,” she chirped.

Justin quickly looked back at Clay. He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “Clay—please explain.”

Clay met his gaze. “Wow, you’re—taking this better than I thought.”

Shaking his head, Justin corrected, “No, I’m—_pissed_, but, I’m in the doghouse, so…” he swallowed. “Please give me a good reason not to kick his ass tomorrow.”

“Okay, okay,” Clay quickly said, then let out another sigh. “Look, it—kind of, kind of came out of nowhere.” He seemed to take a moment to think. “I mean, we were working on his paper in the library. Nothing was strange or out of the ordinary...”

“Translation,” Hannah interjected, on the bed now, “Scott was taking every chance he could to ogle Clay while he wasn’t looking.”

Justin swallowed as Clay went on, “And we went over a lot of good revisions, and he seemed to be in a much better mood, I guess.”

“Amazing what a little Clay-time can do for a person,” Hannah remarked. Justin kept his eyes on Clay.

“We wrapped up,” the boy continued, “and started making for the parking lot. He began thanking me, telling me how he really appreciated me helping him—in spite of everything.” Clay let out a sigh. “That’s when, I guess… I mean, that was sort of the moment when things got a little weird, I suppose.”

“He kissed you in the parking lot?” Justin exclaimed.

Clay shook his head. “Not—not exactly. He started saying something like, ‘I know I’ve given you more reasons to hate me than not, but I hope you don’t,’ and I told him I didn’t hate him.”

“That sounds familiar,” Hannah added.

“Then he, like,” Clay said, chuckling, “said I was a bad ass, and if anyone was gonna make a real difference at this school, it’d be me.”

Justin gave the boy a look. “Clearly, he was buttering you up.”

Clay shook his head. “I didn’t think at the time why he was saying all those things. We’d gotten into the car by that point, and I’d put on my seatbelt, but he hadn’t even started the car yet. A moment passed, and I looked at him. I was about to ask him what was up when he looked back at me—and that was when he leaned over and, and it happened.”

“Not the smoothest of executions,” Hannah remarked, “but you gotta give Scott points for boldness.”

Justin managed a glare towards the bed before looking back at Clay. “Did you—kiss him back?”

“No,” his boyfriend replied, then sighed. “Not really? I don’t think… I mean, I was stunned, but when I realized what was happening, I pulled away, and I said, ‘what the hell are you doing?’ but I didn’t give him a chance to respond. I, luckily, managed to undo my seatbelt—”

“He got stuck in the seatbelt,” Hannah said.

“—without too much trouble and got out of the car. Scott chased after me though, and begged me to stop. I tried telling him I would just walk home, but he got in front of me, and pleaded, like, ‘No, dude, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what I was thinking. Please—I’ll shut up, I won’t say a word, but just let me take you home. I won’t do anything, I swear. Please let me drive you home.’ I thought about how long of a walk it would actually be, so…”

“You could’ve called me,” Justin interjected.

Clay nodded. “Yeah, I—I should have, but, he just looked so completely mortified, and I felt bad, and it wasn’t like he really scared me or anything like that. He just surprised me, and obviously he didn’t know about us, so I didn’t want him to think that that bothered me, him liking guys—”

“How do you know he doesn’t know about us?” Justin pressed.

“He’s turned off his socials. Facebook, Insta—he’s not been on social media since the stuff with Bryce. And he’s been trying to lay low, and ignore all the talk—just like we’ve been.”

Justin managed a dry laugh. “So, you rode home with Scott, then. In the most awkward car ride—ever.”

His boyfriend nodded again, pursing his lips. “Pretty much.”

“You didn’t say anything at all?”

“I mean, I didn’t know what to say. Something like this has never happened to me before—being the subject of this kind of attention.”

Justin laughed again, more heartily this time. “Clay, do you—think I’m, like, this unicorn, or something?”

Hannah laughed as Clay eyed him in confusion. “What?”

“Is it really that hard to believe,” Justin explained, “that someone else could like you the way I do?”

“Oh,” Clay said, then gave a small smile. “Like I said, I, I really don’t have a lot of experience—when it comes to this.”

Justin chuckled. “So, Scott simply just dropped you off just now, and that was it?”

“Well,” the boy admitted, rolling his head slightly side to side as he looked towards the coffee table, “he asked me—when he pulled up to the house, right when I was about to get out of the car—he asked, ‘did I get this wrong? Like, completely—and totally wrong?’ And I just—I just told him, I’d see him later, and got out of the car.”

As Hannah whistled, Justin felt his throat prickle slightly. “Do—do you like Scott?”

Clay immediately looked back at him. “What? No, I don’t!” he said firmly.

Justin raised his palms. “Then, why didn’t you say anything to him about us?” he asked, forcing a laugh.

“Because he looked so _sad!” _the boy exclaimed, also springing his hands towards the ceiling. “He looked so completely devastated, and I _don’t_ like hurting people, and I never expected _this _kind of attention from _him _of all people, and I _completely _suck at these things, and I _hate _confrontation—”

“Okay, okay,” Justin cut him off, reaching over to settle him. As he took the boy’s hands, Justin continued, “I get it, I get it. I’m sorry.”

His boyfriend let out a deep breath, squeezing Justin’s hands in return. “I have no interest in Scott like that. You don’t need to worry about me thinking about anyone else, romantically or otherwise.”

Justin smiled at him. “Just checking. Seriously, though, he’s gonna think he might still have a chance, or keep stressing about how badly he messed things up.”

Clay sighed. “Like I said, I completely suck at this.” He shrugged. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I should’ve just told him right off the bat.” He reached into his pocket. “I need to call him.”

Justin stilled his hand, “No, let—let him sweat a little longer. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

Shaking his head, Clay said, “No, I—you don’t have to do that. I can handle this. Really. I’ll find him tomorrow, and just explain everything.”

“But I wanna bust his balls a little for goin’ after my man,” Justin said.

His boyfriend suppressed a smile. “Please don’t. I’m sure he feels shitty enough as it is.” When Justin pouted and grunted in disapproval, Clay laughed and shifted across the couch to lay in his lap.

“I’m sorry I accidentally cheated on you in the middle of all this,” the boy said, taking Justin’s hand.

At that, Justin let out a brief laugh. “Clay, you did not cheat on me.”

Clay squeezed his hand. “But, you had some concerns about him, didn’t you?”

Justin met Hannah’s gaze across the room as she raised an eyebrow at him. “I guess,” he said, looking back down at Clay. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I didn’t really have anything to go on.”

“Clearly, my gaydar needs recalibrating,” the boy went on. “Did you know I never knew Tony was gay until last year?”

Justin laughed again. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Clay sighed.

“Well,” Justin went on, letting go of his hand to rub the boy’s arm, “I don’t think it would’ve helped in this case, anyway. If Scott is really into guys, I don’t think he’s out to anyone.”

“He’s clearly going through stuff,” Clay agreed. “I mean, who isn’t, but—he’s said some things in passing. I think his parents might be separating, or something. I don’t know for sure.”

“Shit,” Justin sighed.

They were quiet for a short while. Eventually, Clay asked, “How’s your craving?”

Justin gazed down at the boy. “If I get to hold you like this, I think I’ll be good for a while longer.”

Clay shifted to look back up at him, then smiled as he took and squeezed Justin’s hand.


	11. Wednesday Wobble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin and Clay get some bad news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up for a mild depiction of drug use.

By the time Clay’s parents came home, Justin decided with the boy not to use. After dinner, they did their homework, and Clay pressed Justin again on his craving before starting the last part of their nightly routine—taking turns in the bathroom.

“For real,” the boy said across the couch, slipping his notebook into his backpack, “do you need to use?”

Justin took a deep breath as he rubbed his arms. Despite the dull aching in his muscles, he said, “Tonight, I think I need to be next to you—more than I need another hit.”

“Do you think you’re gonna make the night?”

Shaking his head quickly, Justin uttered, “No.”

Clay moved Justin’s binder out of the way and slid across the couch. He met Justin’s gaze, then leaned in for a kiss. Justin savored his boyfriend’s lips as chills—the good kind—swept across his skin. When the boy pulled back, he smiled.

“Well,” Clay began, “if I don’t have you next to me, you’ll probably still have to wake me up early, anyway.”

Justin smiled back. “Maybe.”

“Can I tru—”

“Take the bottle with you.”

His boyfriend nodded slowly, biting his lip briefly. “Okay.”

Clay stood from the couch and retrieved the bottle from Justin’s duffle bag before grabbing a towel from the closet and stepping out of the room. Justin pulled his knees up towards his chest and clutched his elbows around his legs to wait for the boy to return, steering his eyes around the room—anywhere else other than his bag beneath the bed.

His eyes fell to Hannah across the couch from him. “You’re almost there,” she said. “I’m actually—kind of proud of you.”

Justin scoffed, “Like I’m there, yet.”

“You’re not,” Hannah agreed, “but you will be, soon. If you keep at it.”

His foot started to twitch. Justin let out an exasperated sigh. “Fuck, why does Clay have to withhold cuddles if I use?”

Hannah laughed. “Obviously, it’s working.”

Justin huffed. “If he just let me use, we could have a good, full night’s sleep, and get through the day tomorrow…”

“This is how weaning yourself off goes, remember? Your tolerance is rising, anyway, Justin. You have to nip this in the bud, _now.”_

“Oh, what do you know,” Justin grunted, gazing towards the bed. “You’re not even here.”

Hannah loomed before him as the room suddenly darkened and she was instantly tall enough to reach the fucking ceiling.

“STAY THE COURSE,” she boomed, “OR I WILL KICK YOUR ASS, FOLEY.”

As Justin found himself cringing against the couch, his heart pounding inside his chest, the room became lit again—and Hannah was gone. Justin tried to calm himself—right as Clay came back into the room, a towel around his waist.

“Your turn,” the boy announced.

So that Clay wouldn’t see him freaking out, Justin leapt from the couch to grab his own towel and practically ran out of the room. Right as he shut the door, he heard the boy chuckle behind him. That was okay, Justin tried to tell himself. _He already knows I’m crazy._

Brushing and showering did help to steady his nerves, and by the time Justin returned to the room, his craving had fallen back towards a tolerable but persistent prickling inside his core. He found Clay on the couch, so after dressing into his pajamas, Justin sat beside him.

“We need to discuss your final doses,” the boy said.

“Okay.”

He looked at Justin. “Given the rate that your cravings seem to be progressing, I think you have two more doses to go if we’re going to time this right for you to detox over most of the weekend.”

Justin nodded. “I figured that was what we were going for.”

“You only have enough left for two full hits, anyway. Tomorrow night is the last possible window you can use—if you’re going to be well enough again by Monday.”

“But—what about my recovery meeting?”

Clay gave him a meek smile. “It looks like you have it in you, given how long it’s been, today.”

“But,” Justin insisted, “I’m gonna be around a bunch of addicts! I’ll be in withdrawal at that point. They’re gonna know!”

“You can’t skip it,” Clay reminded him, shaking his head. “You can’t skip your recovery meeting. I’m pretty certain you’re going to miss Friday, but you can’t miss Monday, too—not with all the work you still have left to do. And the work you won’t be doing this weekend.”

“Why not I go Friday, and we miss Monday, instead?”

His boyfriend continued shaking his head. “I have a group presentation on Monday, and the timing doesn’t work out as well for the doses you have left. If you’re really going to wean yourself off this.”

Justin sighed. “What are you gonna tell your mom and dad?”

“I’ll think of something,” the boy replied simply. “I’ll tell them, I feel a little sick, too, but not as bad as you. That I’ll take care of you.”

His leg starting to twitch, Justin said, “I don’t know, Clay.”

The boy reached over and grasped his shoulders. “I know this isn’t a fair question to ask right now, but—do you trust me?”

Justin nodded. “Yes.”

Clay leaned in to give him another kiss. At this point, Justin began to realize he might be addicted to something else—his boyfriend’s lips.

When he pulled back, the boy said, “Even if you don’t believe in yourself right now, that’s okay—because I do.” He stood from the couch, then offered his hand to Justin. “Come on—let’s get to bed.”

Taking his boyfriend’s hand, Justin followed Clay across the room, and they shut off the lights before settling beneath the covers into each other’s arms.

~ ~ ~

Waking with a start, Justin came to as panic and chills scraped against his arms and legs. He found himself turned away from Clay, who still seemed fast asleep as Justin tried to regain his bearings. He was sweating all over, yet still trembling beneath the covers. He needed a goddamn fucking hit _now_.

Justin reached over to wake the boy, but even as he grasped Clay’s arm, he couldn’t steady his hand.

“Clay,” he choked.

His boyfriend stirred immediately with a sharp intake of air, and then a pained groan.

“I’m sorry,” Justin uttered, nearly weeping, “I’m so fucking sorry…”

The boy shushed him. “It’s okay,” he whispered, “it’s okay.”

With another grunt, Clay was out of the bed with a literal flash as he clicked the bed lamp back on. Justin had to get out of bed, too, and started to pace, unable to contain the panic and the chills rending his nerves. He couldn’t watch Clay get everything ready—because he wasn’t sure if he would be able to stop himself from shouting at his boyfriend to _hurry the fuck up._

“Justin.”

He turned to face Clay. The boy was kneeling by the foot of the bed.

“Sit.”

Justin obeyed eagerly, despite himself, but closed his eyes as the boy reached to dab an alcohol wipe between his toes. He didn’t want the image of Clay injecting him to be something that his memory retained.

As he knew the boy would act quickly, Justin tried to brace himself for the needle, but he still felt it pierce his skin without warning—and the ensuing _rush _of _relief _made him curse out loud. _Fuck_.

By the time he opened his eyes, Clay had already put everything away. _Shit_, Justin thought. Did he really lose it like this every time he used? He hated it. He fucking hated it—how he responded so viscerally to it. How his body betrayed him. How he was too fucking weak to resist it.

As Justin gazed towards the floor, he found his vision blurring, and a few tears escaping down his cheeks. When Clay sat beside him on the bed, Justin sniffled. “I fucking hate this.”

The boy rubbed his back. “I know.”

Justin shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to be doing this for me.”

Clay let out a quiet exhale. “Well, I only have to do this just one more time.”

Justin met his gaze. “The last time.”

His boyfriend gave him a small smile before nodding towards the couch. “Come on, get over there. We can still fit in two more REM cycles before the sun comes up.”

Managing a slight chuckle, Justin made for the closet to grab his sheets. When he settled onto the couch, he saw Clay looking over at him before turning off the light.

“I’m not losing you, Justin,” the boy said, settling beneath the covers.

_You won’t_, Justin tried to reply, but couldn’t find his voice. He gazed up at the ceiling, and willed himself to keep silent as more tears ran down his temples.

~ ~ ~

They had a slow start to the morning. Because it had been overcast, Lainie had to call them downstairs for breakfast, which Justin and Clay ate in a groggy and relatively quiet haze. After dressing and getting ready for school, they set off under a gray, foreboding sky. It looked like it might rain again.

“I think I had a dream about you last night,” Clay remarked out of the blue. They were two lights away from the school.

Justin managed a half smile as he met the boy’s eyes. “Oh yeah?”

“I think we were on a Ferris wheel.”

When the boy didn’t say more, Justin asked, “Was that the whole dream?”

Clay shrugged. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Were we—stuck, or something? Was it moving?”

“Maybe. I don’t remember.”

As the light turned green, Justin said, “I hope it wasn’t a nightmare.”

The boy laughed. “It wasn’t.”

When they pulled onto the school parking lot, Clay found a spot and turned off the car. He looked over at Justin. “What do you think I should say to Scott?”

Clicking his tongue, Justin replied, “Tell him I’ll beat his ass if he lays a hand on you again.”

Clay gave him a look. “Justin.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Justin let out. _Mostly._ “Tell him—you need to come clean about something.” He grasped the boy’s hand. “And that you’re with me.”

His boyfriend smiled at him. “I was hoping I could squeeze in a, ‘we can still be friends!’ in there somewhere.”

Justin laughed. “If he really likes you, I don’t think he’ll go for that.”

Sighing, Clay squeezed his hand back. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

They got out of the car and started to walk. Clay went on, “I think he’s feeling a little isolated. I don’t wanna—contribute to that.”

“Well, you can’t help how other people feel about you.” Justin patted him on the back. “Give him a chance to explain, to clear the air. Assuming he doesn’t avoid you the whole day, of course.”

They neared the main entrance. “That should be pretty difficult,” Clay said. “His locker is just down the hall from mine.”

When they got inside, and reached their usual parting spot, Justin was surprised to see the boy seemingly hesitant to leave. With only a split second to act before things got awkward, Justin patted Clay’s arm and said, “I’ll see ya.”

In an even bigger surprise, Clay hugged him briefly before drawing back and saying, “See ya.”

Feeling the back of his neck burn, Justin couldn’t help grinning as his boyfriend turned and quickly walked down the hall. Unlike the beginning of the week, no one was paying attention to them, but Justin still couldn’t help chuckling to himself as he made for his locker. Clay remembered what Justin had said last week, before the Monty stuff. And his boyfriend actually took a step to make him happier—in spite of everything else.

God, he loved Clay.

~ ~ ~

Clay’s hug goodbye that morning was enough for Justin to linger on cloud nine for most of his first two periods before the inkling of a craving started to tingle beneath his skin. When he went to his locker before third, he found Tony there waiting for him.

“Justin,” Padilla said in greeting.

Feeling his nerves spike with panic, Justin cleared his throat. “Tony.”

Tony looked up at Justin. “What did I warn you about last week?”

Justin gazed back at him blankly, gulping. “Last week?”

“If you did something to hurt Clay,” Padilla elaborated.

Clearing his throat again, Justin asked, “Did he say something to you?”

Tony shook his head. “He’s been a little off this week, and I just haven’t been able to put my finger on exactly why.” He stepped aside so that Justin could get to his locker. “Care to fill me in, Foley?”

Justin sighed. “Please don’t break my legs. I kind of need them.” He started to spin in his combination. “And you’ll just upset Clay, so…”

“What happened?”

“We—we just got into a fight, okay? But we’ve worked through it. We’re working through it.” Justin opened his locker. “Can you tell me that you and Caleb haven’t disagreed on anything so far?”

Tony shrugged. “All right, fair point. Look, compared to last week, though, with how Clay had been, I just didn’t think the honeymoon phase would end so quickly for you two.”

“Who said it’s over?” Justin pressed.

“Well, Clay’s already kissing other boys, so—what does that say?”

When Justin glared at him, Tony burst out laughing. “You asshole,” Justin spat, and Padilla laughed even harder. “He told you?”

It took a moment for Tony to collect himself. “Yeah,” he breathed, “yeah, he did. Oh God, I cannot believe that boy’s luck sometimes.”

“He did not kiss Scott,” Justin insisted. “Scott kissed _him.”_

Tony nodded, smacking his own thigh as he started laughing again. “I know, I know!” Padilla managed between breaths.

“Why the hell is that so funny?” Justin went on.

“It’s not,” Tony replied, trying to compose himself, “but it is!” He let out a long sigh. “Oh—man. You didn’t think you’d have competition like that so soon—did you?”

“Scott’s _not _competition.” Justin dropped his physics book in his backpack.

“Well, he’s apparently managed to avoid Clay so far today,” Tony said, letting one last chuckle escape. “Might wanna set the record straight with him before he makes some grand gesture or something.”

When Tony started off down the hall, Justin pulled out his phone and texted Clay, _Any luck with Scott?_ He didn’t get a reply until he had finished gathering his things and was on his way to third: _Not yet_.

_Fuck_. Justin couldn’t help but be distracted for most of his third period. Tony obviously didn’t know about his relapse, but Clay did tell him about Scott. Was it simply so that Tony wouldn’t pry further? It made the most sense, but why was Padilla so set on breaking his balls? Was he trying to start shit between Scott and him?

Maybe it was some reverse-psychology thing. Clay must have told him what Justin had wanted to do about Scott—but Justin wasn’t serious! He was kidding!

Mostly.

By the time third period ended, Justin decided to track down Scott himself. He had a longer window of opportunity with the lunch periods starting, so he skipped his locker and went past the cafeteria. As Justin neared the turn that was down the hall from Clay’s locker, he spotted Scott backtracking from around that very corner.

Justin slowed and tried to blend in with the kids around him so that Scott wouldn’t see him, and he watched Scott peer around the corner in the direction of Clay’s locker. Clearly, he was avoiding Clay, and Justin couldn’t help chuckling to himself.

After a short while and several peeks around the corner, Scott finally seemed confident enough to cross the Rubicon and disappeared down the hallway. Justin followed him, and by the time he caught up to him, Scott had his locker open and was practically hiding inside of it.

Since there was no line of sight between them, Justin felt like toying with him a little and snuck behind the locker door, then waited to see how long it would take for Scott to notice him. He didn’t see Justin until he shut the locker.

“Jesus Christ!” Scott cried out with a jump. Justin regarded him, straight-faced, as Reed worked to catch his breath.

“Scott.”

“What the hell, man?” Scott breathed.

“Jumpy?”

Reed’s expression turned sad. “I’m guessing Clay told you what happened?” When Justin nodded slowly, Scott went on, “Look, I—I don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t mean to, to…” He sighed. “Shit, dude, I don’t know. But if you’re here to do something, I won’t stop you—but you can’t make me feel worse than I already do.”

“Do you have a thing for Clay?” Justin asked.

Scott shook his head. “Look, Justin, you don’t need to go all big-brother on me, okay? I never meant to do anything to make him feel uncomfortable—I never meant to imply he might like guys—I wasn’t thinking… It was just,” he threw up his hands, “a moment of insanity! Can we just leave it at that?”

“You think there’s something wrong with being gay?” Justin asked, giving him a look, but started to regret it as Reed’s eyes started to well.

Scott looked away quickly, though. “No, I just…” He sniffled, and cleared his throat. “Look, I—I gotta get to class.” He started to walk away.

Justin sighed. _Shit_. “Scott, wait,” he called, taking a few steps to follow him.

“Please leave me alone,” Reed said over his shoulder, his voice breaking.

Coming to a stop, Justin watched Scott round the corner. _Damn_, he thought. Clay was right. Scott looked really fucking sad. Justin turned to head back towards the cafeteria, and tried to think of how he was going to explain it all to Clay—how he’d done goofed again.

~ ~ ~

Justin went through lunch without managing to decide what to tell Clay about Scott. He hadn’t expected Reed to be so sensitive about the subject, only to realize that he didn’t really know Scott all that well. Given that Justin had only ever played basketball, and Scott had only done football and baseball, their paths never really intersected beyond Bryce’s parties. Justin had never really paid attention to Reed, and had never really thought about him to make any judgments about him until recently.

Scott still didn’t seem to know about either Clay or Justin, and while Justin knew Zach hung out with him, his friend obviously didn’t fill Scott in, either. Not that Justin had expected him to.

He did think back to when Monty was bleeding out on Scott’s couch, however. Right as the bell rang to dismiss lunch, Justin remembered Monty saying something about Scott not being able to _pick his team._ Justin had figured Monty was ragging on Reed for betraying Bryce, but now, he wondered—did Monty know about Scott, or suspect something?

Regardless, Justin knew Clay wouldn’t like that he’d upset Scott, so he continued pondering through his next period on how to break the news. Midway through lecture, he felt his phone vibrate a few times—but knew one of the messages had to be Clay (Justin set a special vibration pattern for the boy’s texts), so he snuck a peek at his phone.

Alex  
_Heads up, I overheard talk in Bolan’s office earlier_  
_They’re expelling Tyler_

Clay  
_Are you fucking serious_  
_???_

Alex  
_I texted my dad. It’s legit._  
_But they won’t be pursuing any charges_

Justin sighed. Not good. Definitely not good. He sprang up from his chair and all eyes in the classroom shot towards him as Mr. Hensley stopped speaking.

“I have to go to the bathroom!” Justin declared, and ran for the door before Mr. Hensley could say anything.

As he stepped into the hallway, Justin didn’t exactly remember what Clay had for fifth, but was pretty sure the boy had pre-cal and so set off towards the math wing, which was just two halls over.

Justin hadn’t wanted to be right—but sure enough, after turning the corner, he spotted Clay booking it down the hallway.

“Clay!” he called out, and started to run after him.

The boy stopped, then turned around. When he saw Justin approaching, the fury shaping his expression faded and quickly gave way to tears.

“Clay,” Justin uttered, grasping the boy’s shoulders when he reached him. As Clay started to cry, Justin pulled him close as sobs began escaping the boy. He hugged Justin desperately, weeping into his shoulder, and Justin held him back tightly, trying his best to soothe him as he gently rubbed the boy’s back and neck.

“I hate this fucking school,” Clay sighed. “I hate this fucking school.”

Justin let him vent for a moment. “Hey, they’re not pressing charges, though. Did you see that part?”

“No,” his boyfriend said, sniffling, “but—he still didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve _any _of it. And they’re still punishing him for it.”

Giving him another gentle squeeze, Justin offered, “You think Tyler would even want to come back here?”

Clay sniffled again. “This is gonna follow him wherever he goes. At least here, we can watch out for him.”

Justin didn’t know what else he could say, so he waited for the boy to settle. After a short while, when he seemed to stop crying, Justin pulled back slightly.

“Come on,” he said, nodding his head over his shoulder, “let’s get the fuck out of here. Skip the rest of the day.”

That managed to draw a smile from Clay as he wiped away a few tears. Exhaling deeply, the boy replied, “As much as I’d love to buck the trend of—being completely predictable, I can’t. I have a quiz in history.”

Justin let out a brief laugh despite himself. He reached to caress the boy’s face and thumbed away a few more tears from his cheeks. “Tyler’s gonna be okay. We can still be there for him. He and his folks will figure something out. He’s not going to jail, at least. And your mom’ll know what we can do for him.”

Clay nodded, sniffling once more. “You’re right, you’re right. We’ll figure something out.”

When their eyes met, Justin leaned in for a slow, gentle kiss.

After Justin pulled back, Clay uttered, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

After another moment, they separated from each other’s embrace, but kept their eyes on each other. Justin laughed. “I guess I oughta—get back to class.”

The boy grinned. “Yeah, me too.”

When a few more seconds passed, they stepped forward towards each other again for another kiss—a longer, deeper, and more intense kiss—before Clay drew back.

“Okay,” he breathed, clearing his throat, “class, uh—for real!”

Justin laughed again. “All right, Clay. I’ll see ya later.”

They both turned around and started back in the directions they’d each come from—and they both looked over their shoulders for one last gaze at each other before finally rounding the corners of the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos if you spot the allusions here... I've actually sprinkled a few intentional allusions/references throughout the series but no one has commented on them so I'm not sure... :(


	12. Scott Reed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin talks to Scott.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I miss Scott... :'(

The day ended without further drama, although Justin could sense Clay’s solemn mood as they made for the car. He asked the boy if he was okay, to which his boyfriend insisted, _Yes, I’m fine._ It didn’t encourage Justin to broach the topic of Scott Reed as they set off for home, but he ultimately decided Clay could probably do with the change of subject.

“Did you ever end up talking to Scott?”

“No, I didn’t,” Clay said. “I texted him, but he never responded, either. He successfully evaded me for the entire day.”

Justin chuckled. “Yeah, he was definitely avoiding you.”

The boy glanced over at him. “Did you see him?”

“I did.”

“Where?”

Justin tried not to laugh. “I only saw him once, but he was literally hiding from you down the hall—watching and waiting for you to leave your locker.”

Clay sighed. “Oh, god.”

“Did—did you tell Tony what happened, though?”

The boy clicked his tongue. “Yeah, I—did.” Clay smiled at him. “Did he harass you?”

Justin rolled his eyes. “Maybe.”

“I swear, I told him not to. I just—I had to tell him something. He kept getting onto me about something being off with me.”

They reached a stop light. “Yeah, Jess came to me yesterday, too. She noticed you’d been off as well.”

Clay gave him a look that verged on snarky. “I could easily make a dig at you about not being as good at hiding stuff, but I won’t.”

Justin looked back at him, pouting his lips. “You should.”

His boyfriend smiled. “I guess it’s a good thing we got people rooting for us, no?”

Smiling in return, Justin replied, “I think so.” The light turned green. “I didn’t tell her about the drugs, exactly. Just that—it had to do with my adoption.”

“You didn’t want her worrying?” When Justin didn’t answer, Clay went on, “Her opinion still means a lot, doesn’t it?”

Swallowing, Justin said, “Yeah, I guess it does—but really, I mainly didn’t want her to worry. She can still easily find out, though. Alex knows.”

“He does?”

“Yeah. He also noticed your—change in mood this week.”

Clay nodded. “I might’ve guessed.” They reached another stop light. “So,” the boy went on, “you saw Scott, but you didn’t tell me?”

Justin sighed. “No, I… Tony was giving me shit about you kissing him—”

“Scott kissed _me.”_

“I know! Look, Tony was being Tony, and it kinda got to me, so I went looking for Scott. That’s when I found him hiding from you, so I wanted to give him a little shit, too.”

“Oh no,” Clay uttered, setting the car in motion again as the light turned green.

Justin held up his hands. “I swear, I didn’t do or say anything intentionally mean to him! I just asked him, straight up, if he had a thing for you, but he didn’t really answer. Then, I asked him if he thought there was anything wrong with being gay, and he got upset.”

“Upset how?”

“Well, I know what you mean now, when you said he looked really sad.”

Clay let out another sigh. “Did he think you were there to do something?”

“I guess. Maybe.” When the boy gave him another look, Justin admitted, “Okay, I kinda—snuck up on him. And that scared him. But that was it. He still doesn’t seem to have any idea about us.”

His boyfriend smirked. “I take it you didn’t have the chance to clarify that with him, either?”

Justin cleared his throat. “No,” he replied quietly, and Clay laughed.

“We’ll figure something out.”

They got home and went upstairs. As they set their backpacks down, Justin sat on the couch and looked up towards the boy. Clay stood before him, looking back.

“What?” his boyfriend asked, a slight smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

Justin twiddled his fingers in his lap. “I’ve—really missed kissing you.”

Clay sat at the side chair. “I’ve missed—kissing you, too.”

Shaking his head, Justin went on, “Obviously, I guess—I know the answer to this—but I guess, we’re not having, um, sexy time, until I’m clean?”

The boy snorted a brief laugh. “Obviously—you would be correct.”

Justin lay on his side across the couch and let out a deliberate whine. “I can’t even go down on you for just a little bit?”

Clay inhaled deeply and slowly, his eyes widening briefly. “No… Not even for a little bit.”

Justin whined again, bouncing briefly on the couch. “Am I even allowed to jerk off?”

Giggling, Clay knelt on the floor before Justin. “Well, I’m not _saying_ you’re not allowed to, but I’ve been saving up for you—for when this is all over.”

Justin gave another whine and squirmed on the couch again. “But you get me all hot and bothered when you get all bossy and demanding.”

Letting out another laugh, Clay stood up. “Okay, you’re just doing this to yourself at this point, Foley.”

_Mhm. _Justin gazed up at the boy. “Next time you come, I’m swallowing every last drop this time.”

Clay drew in another sharp intake of breath and spun away from him. “I think you need a cold shower.” He pulled out his phone. “We both do,” he uttered, before bringing the phone to his ear. “Mom? Hey.”

Justin sat up and watched the boy as he spoke on the phone. He looked back at Justin, making a concerned face. “Mrs. Aubrey?” A pause. “Jesus. Is she okay?” Another pause. “All right, well—sounds easy enough. Okay. Okay.” Another pause. “Love you too.”

Clay slipped the phone back into his pocket and sighed. “What’s up?” Justin asked.

“Apparently, Mrs. Aubrey around the block had a mild stroke while she was dog-sitting the Dunaway’s dog. She’s okay, but Mom asked me to go over there to feed her cat and walk the dog.”

When the boy looked over at the bed—or rather, beneath it—Justin nodded when Clay looked back at him. “You’re wondering if you can leave me alone,” Justin offered. “I could go with you.”

“You have a lot of homework to do,” Clay countered, “and I never asked—how’s your craving?”

Justin nodded again. “It’s okay for right now, but you should still take the bottle with you if you don’t want me to come with you. I know the thought of walking around with it—isn’t great, but it’s not like the dog will smell it on you or anything.”

Clay shook his head. “It’s not just that. I’m not sure if, if I’ll really be able to resist you—if it came down to it.”

Grinning, Justin said, “Clay, I got it! No sexy time until I’m clean. It’s fair. I won’t try anything.”

The boy pursed his lips, glancing back over at the bed. “Maybe I _should_ give you the chance to prove yourself.”

Justin stood up and made for his bag beneath the bed. After unzipping it, and digging for the bottle, he pulled it out and offered it to Clay. “Take it.”

His boyfriend took it, and slipped it into his pocket. He stepped towards Justin and pecked him on the lips. “I’ll be back soon.”

“See ya,” Justin said with a smile.

After Clay left the room, Justin sat back on the couch and pulled his homework from his book bag, setting his physics textbook on the coffee table and his notebook in his lap. He worked intently for a short while—before a rap on the window startled Justin. He looked up to see Scott sliding it upwards before coming in over the windowsill.

“Sorry,” Reed said, a slight smirk shaping his lips, “didn’t mean to scare you.”

Okay, maybe Justin deserved that, but he still gaped at Scott. “What the hell?”

“I saw the car. Sheri told me that meant I should go through the window.”

“First of all,” Justin scoffed, “Clay’s is smaller. Second, what are you doing here?”

“Is Clay not here?”

“No, he’s not.”

Scott’s expression fell, clearly disappointed. “Oh. Is—is he gonna be back soon?”

Justin shook his head. “Maybe, but—what are you even doing here?”

Sighing, Reed took a seat at the side chair. “Fuck, it took a lot for me to even come over here,” he uttered, rubbing his face with both hands. “If I don’t get this out now, I never will.”

It seemed like Scott was talking more to himself. Justin closed his notebook. “Dude, look, there’s something you should know.”

“Clay fucking hates me, doesn’t he?”

“What?” Justin began. “No, he doesn’t. Look—”

Scott scoffed. “Well, he should.” He hung his head. “He fucking should. I—I did know, Monty and a few of the guys were gonna go after him. I did guess it was Monty the whole time—doing all that crap to you guys—but I did shit about it. I was a fucking coward. I’ve—I’ve always been a coward.”

Justin set his notebook on the table and slid down the couch towards Scott. “Look, man, you should stop beating yourself up. I know what that’s like. It happened, but it’s over, now.”

As his eyes seemed to well, Scott was shaking his head. “I, I know I have no right to, to even complain—or to try to even compare what you went through—but…” A sob escaped him. “I’m so fucking lonely, dude. I feel so fucking alone.”

He quickly looked at Justin. “And I know—that doesn’t even come close to… I can’t even begin to imagine what all those months were like for you—but it just feels like I’m headed that way, but in slow motion, you know?”

Justin took a moment to think. “Clay, Clay thought—you might be going through stuff—at home?”

Scott sniffled, and pressed his palms against his eyelids for a moment—as if to stop the tears. “They think I don’t know how much they’ve been fighting. Or maybe they do, but just don’t say anything about it. They act like I haven’t noticed how quiet things have gotten between them—how stifling the air has gotten in the house when they’re both around—and, like the coward I am, I go along with it all.

“I’m, I’m just waiting—bracing—for the day one of them just suddenly isn’t there anymore. Packed up with a suitcase and at a hotel all of a sudden. I’ve been expecting it for months, but it just hasn’t happened yet. Most days I think it’ll be my dad, but after some hushed bickering when they think I can’t hear, I wonder, sometimes, if it’ll be my mom, instead. But it’s rare that they’ll both even be in the house at the same time, anymore; it’s like one of them will either find any excuse to work late, or get out for some errand.

“The problem is, I have no clue what could be wrong. Did one of them cheat? Are they having money problems? Do they just not love each other anymore? I’m sure it had been going on for a lot longer, but I’d been too fucking self-absorbed to see it happening in front of me and now I’m just—choking in that house when they’re both there. And yet still, somehow, it’s better than—than toppling the house of cards altogether.”

Scott gave Justin a sad smile. “Like I said, I’m a fucking coward.”

“Look,” Justin offered, “I’m the first one to run away from shitty parents, but your mom didn’t seem all that bad at the hospital.”

“I know,” Scott replied, “I know. She’s not. I try to think, though, that maybe—just maybe—they’re working things out, but, my parents aren’t the main reason why I—I feel this way.”

Reed took a moment. “I’ve had this huge gigantic fucking hole inside of me ever since—since a really, really long time.” He sighed. “I—I honestly don’t know why I kissed Clay. I really don’t. I don’t really know what I feel for him, or what’s really going on inside of me.”

He looked at Justin, then shrugged. “Well, I do know—I’m gay.” He let out a brief laugh, glancing towards the ceiling. “Fuck. I’m gay.” He laughed again, then cleared his throat. “Wow, that’s—that’s the first time I’ve said that to anybody out loud.”

Justin smiled. “Congratulations.”

Scott shook his head. “I mean… Wow, I—I wasn’t expecting to admit that to you, but… Wow. Anyway, I just, I’ve known—for a while, but, like I said, denial and cowardice are pretty much my MO.”

“Is that why you’ve felt so lonely?” Justin asked.

Reed stared at the coffee table for a short while. “Partially,” he eventually said, “but no. I, I think—I think I’ve been mostly okay with, with being in the closet. I know that sounds weird, but—it felt comfortable, you know?” He glanced at Justin. “To have this role laid out for me, and to keep up appearances?”

“Yeah,” Justin agreed. “I know what you mean.”

“It, it never hit me,” Scott continued, looking back at the table, “until the day after Jeff died. I was out for a run when I got the call from Bryce. I’d heard about the party, but never ended up going ‘cause my aunt was flying out that night. When he broke the news to me, I honestly think I blacked out—because the next thing I remember, I was puking my guts out on the sidewalk, and one of the neighbors was trying to help me get up off the ground.

“I’d barely eaten anything, but my body was still trying to turn itself inside-out. I eventually managed to get a grip, but my knees were still so wobbly, I couldn’t make it back home all the way. I remember rounding the corner, and then—just simply collapsing against this tree as another wave hit me. I started bawling my eyes out, like I was just—totally crippled. Like I was dead, or dying. I’d never felt anything like that before. Something that intense.

“Looking back on it now—I think a part of me really did die that day.”

Justin made a sympathetic sound. “You were close with Jeff,” he remarked.

Scott gave an airy laugh as he glanced at Justin. “I mean, was there anybody he _wasn’t _friends with?” He looked towards the door. “But yeah, he—he was my best friend.

“I still remember how he came up to me the day I transferred. Sat at my table at lunch, took one of my fries, and said, ‘You look like an athlete. What’s your sport?’ I said I didn’t have one, and he offered his hand, introducing himself, then said, ‘You do now.’”

Scott chuckled and shook his head. “I didn’t think it could be worse, transferring in midway through the year as a freshman, but Jeff made me feel welcome, and he was the main reason I got into baseball. I quickly learned that he looked out for people, but really—he had my back.

“So when Clay started tutoring him, I didn’t really think anything of it until he asked me one day to look out for him after he graduated. I never really thought they were friends, so I asked him why, and Jeff only said, ‘He’s a good kid, but he can get too much in his own way, sometimes. He could use someone looking out for him.’ I never thought it’d become something of a—dying wish.”

Justin nodded. “So that’s why you’ve been doing all this.”

“Maybe, but not at first,” Scott said. “I have to admit, I resented Clay for a while after the accident. Between him, and Leah, we never really got the chance as much to hang out like we used to. But really, after he started going out with Leah, years of denial—started to make an ugly comeback.”

When Scott stopped speaking, Justin took a deep breath. “Did you—_like_ Jeff? In that way?”

Reed was shaking his head slightly. “I don’t know when it happened. I’d known I was gay for a while by then, but it was a long time before I started to look at Jeff—in that way. And then once I’d started, there was no going back. I tried to tell myself, over and over, ‘He’s straight. Nothing’s gonna happen. Get over it. Never gonna happen.’

“I thought it was working, but there was this one time—the tipping point for me, I guess—when we were smoking, and at the time, I’d just assumed it was the weed. But we were just talking, and giggling at the shit you laugh at when you’re high, you know, when out of the blue, he asks, ‘do you think someone can be into girls and guys at the same time?’

“Something inside of me—just snapped. But I played it off. I only laughed, and asked, ‘what do you mean?’ and he just said, ‘never mind.’ And we just went on like nothing happened.

“But, that night—I remember staying up thinking about his question nonstop until practically morning, and of course my stupid imagination ran away with itself.” He threw up his hands. “The next thing I know, though, he asks Leah out, and suddenly they’re going out, and I’m just like, ‘okay.’ But the damage was done. There was no going back.”

“Shit, man,” Justin offered. “What did you do?”

Chuckling, Scott answered, “What do you think? Jack shit! I kept going, trying to pretend like everything was normal, but after a while, it started to hurt. Like—really, _really _hurt. It hurt to be around him, but even when I wasn’t, it still hurt—‘cause I missed him.

“Finally, I decided, to hell with it, I was gonna tell him. I was gonna tell him, and we’d have it out, but whatever happened—anything was better than keeping it to myself. I figured, I’d tell him, he’d say he was straight, and then I could start to get over him. Or…”

As he trailed off, Scott sat back against the chair. “I was gonna go to that party, Jess’ party. When I found out he was going, I spent days psyching myself out, rehearsing and practicing what I was gonna say, how I was gonna do it. But then the chance to drive my aunt to the airport presented itself and I chickened out—surprise, surprise—and I went to bed that night staring at my phone, shooting him a text—‘hey, can we talk?’—waiting for a response. Hoping that I might be able to salvage my plan in some way.”

Tears started falling rapidly down his cheeks. “Little did I know he would never get the chance to reply.”

“You couldn’t have known what was gonna happen,” Justin said.

Scott pressed his palms to his eyes again, seemingly to stop the tears, but the longer he pressed, the more his strength appeared to buckle. He leaned over his lap and rested his elbows on his knees as he began to sob.

“He never knew—how I really felt. He never knew what—what he really meant to me. I was such a fucking coward, I’ll never know what he really meant that night when he asked me—if someone could like both guys and girls. I was such a fucking coward, I’ll never get the chance to tell him—I was in love with him. I loved him. And I’ll never know, if he might’ve—could’ve—loved me back.”

Justin stood from the couch and knelt beside Scott, grasping his arm. “Hey, hey,” Justin said, trying to console him, “I think he knew, at some level, at least. He knew.”

“But I never fucking told him!” Reed cried out. Justin started to rub his back as he broke down into sobs once more.

After a moment, Scott went on, “I think I’m gonna regret this for the rest of my fucking life. No—I know I will. It’s been months—and some days it still feels like fucking yesterday. I miss him so much—sometimes, it’s like I’m suffocating. Sometimes, it’s like I’m trapped in a dream. Or nightmare, really.

“And that’s why I kissed Clay. It’s why I covered for Monty. It’s why I stuck with Bryce and tried to stick with the team—I was so fucking desperate to be close to Jeff in any way that I still could, to try to continue with the things he cared about.

“I resented Clay after Jeff died, but after all the shit about Bryce came out, and all the things that happened—I started to see what Jeff saw in Clay. I don’t know what I feel for him, but I—I need him to understand, at least. I don’t expect a chance with him. Hell, maybe I do. I wonder sometimes—but I don’t know. I don’t know what I want. I just need things to be good between us—for Jeff.”

Justin patted Scott’s arm and sat back on the couch. “Scott, I’m really sorry to have to break this to you like this, but you need to know, man—Clay’s taken. He’s with me.”

Scott didn’t react right away. After a second or two, he looked at Justin and slowly narrowed his eyes at him. “What?”

The door opened, and they both looked to see Clay enter the room. The boy eyed them in surprise. “Scott?” He came towards them. “What’s going on?”

Scott looked between them. Clearly, he needed a moment for it to sink in. “I—I thought,” Reed began, looking towards Justin, “his parents were adopting you.”

“They are,” Justin confirmed.

Reed looked towards Clay. “You—and, and Justin?”

“Yes,” Clay replied, shooting Justin a questioning look, “me and Justin—are together, still.”

Sniffling, and letting out a deep breath, Scott stood up and rubbed his face. “Shit, I—I am so stupid. How did I not see this? Fuck.” He started to make for the window.

“Scott, wait,” Clay said, reaching to stop him.

Reed sighed. “I, I really don’t have it in me to go through it all again. I should really go.”

“Go through what?” Clay asked, glancing towards Justin. When Scott only made for the window again, Clay went on, “Hey, look, no one’s home. You don’t need to go through the window.”

With only a brief nod, Scott went around Clay and made for the door, shutting it behind him. When Clay looked back at Justin, he asked, “What the heck happened?”

Justin let out a long breath before shaking his head. “Jesus. Where to even start?”


	13. Date Night, Revisited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin and Clay finally have their date night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be the longest part of the series overall, and it will end up mirroring High Hopes in a few respects. Addiction is something that stays with you for a lifetime, so for Justin, I think this aspect of his struggle deserves its due as the rest of the series will largely shift focus beyond it.
> 
> I moved up Justin getting caught by Clay because I just couldn't in good conscience have them reach certain milestones with this looming over them, so a few things have been reshuffled and adjusted. Not to say that it won't continue to be a struggle for Justin. Overall, I think a general theme here is that a few things that happen in season 3 occur much earlier for Clay and Justin...
> 
> Heads up for mild depiction of drug use.

“So, the only reason he kissed me was because—he was in love with Jeff?”

Justin was having a hell of a time trying to explain it all over again to Clay. Scott’s story was intense, and Justin barely had a handle on it to do it any justice for Clay. He had to go over some details a few times, and jump around a lot, but by the end of it, he still wasn’t sure if Clay really got everything that Scott had tried to convey.

“He’s been hurting for a really long time,” Justin said. “His head’s been all over the place.”

“But because Jeff asked him to look out for me, and because he felt so strongly for Jeff—now you think he might be projecting some of those feelings onto me?”

Justin shrugged. “That—probably sums it up way better than how I’ve tried to do it for the past twenty minutes. I don’t think he even knows what he feels for you. Like I said, his head’s a mess.”

Clay sighed. “Just when I thought—that night couldn’t get any more tragic.” He stood, and pulled out his phone. “I’m gonna call him.”

“Hold on,” Justin said, standing with the boy. He reached to stay his boyfriend’s hand. “You can’t help him right now, Clay. We waited too long to tell him—and now he’s just gonna have to process that on his own.”

Clay looked back at him, his eyes sad. “When did I become such a fucking heartbreaker? Hannah, Skye, you—and now Scott?”

“You haven’t hurt me,” Justin insisted.

“You’re only in this mess now because of me!” Clay exclaimed. “If I hadn’t been so weird with you when you got out, if I’d just gotten my fucking head together with how I really felt about you—you _never_ would’ve used, and you never would’ve had to lie to me—”

Justin grasped his shoulders. “Clay, stop! This _isn’t _your fault. I _chose _to use, okay? Because I’m a fucking addict. And you can’t control how people feel about you. How would you have known that Scott Reed of all people would suddenly fall for you like this?”

The boy was shaking his head. “I should’ve just come clean yesterday,” he breathed. “You were right. By putting it off, by being so cowardly—he just ended up building his hopes up only for them to come crashing down.”

“He sprung it on you out of the blue,” Justin reminded him. “And he avoided you the entire day. He admitted it—several times. That he was a coward, too. Afraid.”

Clay sighed again. “He was obviously trying to wait for the right moment. Everything he told you, _how_ he told you—he pretty much bared his entire soul to you. _That_ takes preparation. That takes doing. And the fact that he came through the window, and that you were here and I wasn’t—that still didn’t stop him, either. I should’ve seen this coming.”

Justin squeezed his shoulders. “Hindsight may have all the answers, but that bitch is never there when you need her.”

His boyfriend managed a slight smile. His eyes were welling. “I know exactly how he feels. I know exactly what he’s going through. And I wouldn’t wish that on anybody—not even Bryce. Because someone else would have to suffer for that, too.”

Justin brought the boy close and embraced him tightly. “This isn’t on you, Clay. It’s not your fault. And, I mean, unless you plan on breaking up with me and going out with Scott instead—”

Clay coughed a laugh and hugged him back even harder. “Justin, don’t joke about that. I don’t even want to _think _about being with anyone besides you.”

“You sure? Scott’s not all that bad looking, if you think about it.”

“Shut up,” Clay said, chuckling. He drew back, meeting his eyes. _“You _are everything to me. So stop selling yourself short.”

Justin grinned, then swallowed. “Scott’ll be okay. Just give him a little time.”

His boyfriend exhaled deeply. “We’ll talk to him tomorrow, though, yeah? He needs to know—we’re still there for him.”

“Yeah,” Justin agreed, nodding, “we will.”

“I’m just thinking, if we do it together, he won’t feel as awkward.”

“Right—that I’m not holding it against him that he tried to steal my boyfriend.”

Shooting him another look, Clay leaned in to kiss him. He pried at Justin’s lips to get at his tongue, lashing it with his own for Justin’s insolence. When Clay drew back, Justin felt slightly winded.

“Scott Reed has nothing on you,” Clay whispered.

The boy rested his forehead against Justin’s, and Justin laughed quietly in response. “Good.”

They stood like that for a while before Clay fell back into Justin’s embrace. Justin glanced over at the window to see it suddenly dark, and the tree leaves swaying noticeably with the wind.

“Shit, it looks like it’s gonna storm,” Justin remarked.

Clay parted from him and looked over towards the window. “Oh yeah,” he agreed. “We haven’t had a good downpour in a while.”

He looked back at Justin, letting out another sigh. “Fuck, I need a break. I know you’ve got a ton of homework still, but—”

Justin held up his hand. “Clay, you do _not _need to talk me into doing something other than homework.” He grinned. “I’m down.”

Clay grinned with him, then laughed. “Let’s go downstairs and watch something. A movie?” He started for the door. “Do you, like, have a go-to movie you watch when you’re feeling down?”

Following him, Justin answered meekly, “What makes you think I do?”

His boyfriend prodded him with another grin over his shoulder as they descended the stairs. “Come on, Mr. Disney show tunes—you’ve _got _to have something.”

Justin let out a laugh. “Like you would even have it!”

“Well, tell me what it is! And I’ll think of something.”

When they got to the bottom of the stairs, Clay turned and rested his chin on Justin’s shoulder, drawing out another chuckle from Justin. “I promise,” his boyfriend said, “I will make fun of you only at ten percent of my usual capacity.”

“Oh my god,” Justin sighed, grinning. “Fine!” he huffed playfully. _“Shrek.”_

Clay met his eyes, nodding. “I’ve seen _Shrek._ I mean, it was at my grandparents like ten years ago, but I’ve seen it.”

They proceeded to the den. As Clay dug through the DVDs stashed beneath the TV stand, he asked, “Has my dad not told you he’s a huge Pixar fan?”

“No, he hasn’t,” Justin replied. “Seriously?”

“Oh, don’t get him started on the literary merits of the Pixar universe.” Clay pulled a movie from the stash, presenting it to Justin. The cover featured several animated bugs looking through a munched-on leaf. _A Bug’s Life. _“Have you seen this?”

Justin shook his head. “I haven’t seen any of them.”

“Huh,” Clay grunted, “interesting. Are you being for real, or are you too embarrassed to admit it?”

“I’m being for real!” Justin insisted, grinning once more. He shrugged. “I haven’t really—seen a lot of movies.”

“Well, this one is probably my dad’s favorite, so you two can chat it up next time.”

Justin sat on the sofa as Clay popped in the DVD. “I take it you’re not that into animated films like that?” Justin asked.

“No, I’ve seen a few of them—this one included. I mean, they’re pretty good, but they just don’t really appeal to me, personally.” Clay sat on the couch beside Justin as the film began to load. “I think you’ll really like this one, though,” he said with a smile. “I am gonna enjoy seeing you watch it.”

Justin smiled back at him. “But I thought you were the one that needed the pick-me-up.”

“I do.”

“So why aren’t we watching a film that _you _like?” When Clay gave him a look, Justin felt himself blush. “Oh, right,” Justin said, then laughed.

The boy leaned towards him and reached for his stomach, making Justin cry out as he started tickling him. “You just aren’t used to being doted on, are you?” Clay exclaimed.

“No, I—I do!” Justin laughed. When Clay stopped trying to tickle him, he went on, “I’m, I’m just surprised you’re still being so nice to me, considering—everything.”

Clay sat up. “Well, like I said—I could use a break. And I’m sure you could, too.”

He started the film, but before the initial titles finished, it started to rain, which made the boy curse and ask if Justin wanted popcorn since they still had some packets leftover. Justin agreed, and they went to the kitchen to microwave a bowl. As they waited for the popcorn, Justin couldn’t stop smiling.

“Would this have counted as a date,” Justin asked, “if I suggested we do something like this?”

Clay took his hand and squeezed it for a moment. “Absolutely.”

When the popcorn finished, Clay filled a large bowl for the both of them and Justin grabbed two sodas from the fridge before they went back to the den.

“Is your mom gonna hardcore judge me if she comes home to find us watching this?”

“Of course not,” Clay assured. “By the way, they’re both working late tonight, so we’re free to order takeout if you want.”

“Sweet.”

As they settled onto the couch, Clay sat with the popcorn in his lap and thanked Justin when he handed him his drink before resuming the movie. Justin leaned into Clay, and they rested their heads together as the lamp started hopping across the screen, squishing the _I _in Pixar into the floor.

“Holy shit,” Justin said, taking a bite of popcorn from the bowl, “the scenery looks so fucking good. When did this come out?”

“Uh, I forget,” Clay answered. “Early 2000s, maybe? That can be another thing you can discuss with my dad—the quality of the animation for the time.”

A true downpour started not long after the initial scene finished. As they watched together, munching popcorn and sipping on soda, Justin felt a tranquil serenity settle upon him—a feeling he was surprised to find within him considering the last few days. It was even stronger than the times he’d felt it prior to making it official with Clay—being next to him in bed, cuddling—and strong enough to relegate his craving to a muted whisper, if even that.

Who knew the perfect date night could’ve been so easy, and so simple?

~ ~ ~

About midway through the movie, Clay offered to order pizza. Justin was reluctant at first, given how heavy it was still raining, but the boy assured him that they’d give the delivery driver a really good tip. Pizza arrived not long after Flik and the crew started constructing the fake bird, and by the time the credits started rolling, Justin was feeling sated in every way imaginable.

Clay looked over at him. “So—what’d you think?”

Justin tried to suppress his grinning. “I loved it,” he replied shyly. “Oh my God,” Justin went on, gushing, “it was so good!”

His boyfriend was smiling. “I had a feeling you would like it.” He gently rubbed his thumb across Justin’s palm. “It’s the most I’ve seen you smile all week.”

Squeezing Clay’s hand in return, Justin uttered, “Thank you.”

Clay gazed back at him for a moment. “Don’t mention it.”

When a roll of thunder boomed, Justin cleared his throat and they stood up quickly. “I guess…” he began.

“Yeah,” the boy agreed, also clearing his throat, “time for homework.”

Justin helped him pack the pizza slices left over in the fridge before heading back upstairs. Clay settled at the desk and Justin sat at the couch to start working. After maybe an hour into their homework, there was a knock on the door. “Boys?” Lainie.

“It’s open,” Clay called.

The door opened, and Mrs. Jensen walked into the room, greeting both Justin and Clay. “How was Clifton?” she asked, looking towards the boy.

“Over-excited as ever,” Clay replied, looking briefly over his shoulder. “I really hope Mrs. Aubrey isn’t in the hospital because of him.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Lainie said, suppressing a smile, “she takes care of him too often for him not to be used to her.” She looked towards Justin. “Did you get a chance to meet Clifton?”

“No, I didn’t go with him,” Justin said, nodding towards his notebook. “Too much homework.”

“I would not have been able to get Clifton under control if he did come,” Clay added.

“Well, maybe next time,” Mrs. Jensen said. She looked towards Clay again, and seemed to take a deep breath. “I—I have some news about Tyler,” she went on.

Clay sighed, and looked over his shoulder again towards her. “I already know, mom. He’s expelled.”

Mrs. Jensen stepped over to the side chair and sat down. “How—did you know?”

“Alex overheard them talking outside Bolan’s office,” Justin answered. “He texted us the news after confirming with his dad.”

Lainie sighed. “That’s—not really how I wished for you two to find out.”

“I’m okay, mom,” Clay insisted, looking towards his history book, “really. It’s completely unfair, but—I get it. I guess, in a way, I already knew it was coming.”

“I wish we could’ve done more,” Lainie said. “Unfortunately, the—gravity of what he nearly did wasn’t something that the school board could overlook, in spite of what happened to him.”

“But Tyler’s not going to jail, right?” Justin interjected.

She nodded towards him. “Yes. The police won’t be bringing charges against him. And neither will the school.”

“That’s the compromise?” Clay said, thinning his lips.

“It is,” Lainie confirmed.

“Where is Tyler now?” Clay went on. “Is he home?”

“He’s still being treated at an inpatient facility, but he should be discharged sometime next week.”

“Is Monty still in jail, at least?” Justin asked.

She looked over at Justin. “Juvenile detention, but yes, he is, still. His father has been denied bond as well.”

Turning back towards Clay, Lainie said, “Are you sure you’re all right, sweetheart? I know the news must’ve been hard to hear.”

The boy put his pencil down and met her eyes. “Yes, mom, I’m fine. Really. Like I said, I get it. He doesn’t have to go to jail, so that’s the most important thing, now, I guess. And he’s getting help, too. That’s what really matters.”

Mrs. Jensen stood and grasped his shoulder before leaning in and kissing the top of his head. “There’s more we’ll do for Tyler. This doesn’t end here.” She wished him and Justin goodnight before stepping out of the room and closing the door behind her.

Once she had gone, Justin stood from the couch and wrapped his arms around the boy, nuzzling the side of his neck. “Your mommy _loves _you…” Justin teased.

“Oh my god,” Clay huffed, making Justin laugh. “How much work do you have left, Foley?”

“Mm, I’ll be done in a little bit.”

“Well—no cuddles until you’re finished,” the boy reminded him, and reached to loosen Justin’s hug.

Sighing, Justin let out, “Fine,” drawing out the word in defeat as he let go of his boyfriend.

Clay continued reading until Justin finished his work. Justin went to shower and brush, and returned to the room to find Clay pulling out the bag from under the bed.

“I guess it’s time?” Justin asked, heading for the closet to dress.

“It is,” Clay replied. He unzipped the duffle bag, and waited for Justin to slip on underwear and a t-shirt. Taking the initiative, Justin grabbed the rubbing alcohol from the closet and met the boy by the bed before sitting atop it. Clay sanitized the needle, then Justin’s foot, before drawing the last dose. Justin shut his eyes.

He felt the needle prick him between his toes, followed by the swell of _relief. _He opened his eyes, wondering if maybe it was less intense this time because he’d been bracing for it, or because he hadn’t been craving it as much.

“Was that the same amount as last time?” Justin said.

“It was all you had left,” Clay answered, gathering all of the gear left on the floor, “but yes.”

Justin watched him roll everything back in the gray shirt before standing. Clay looked back at him, clutching the wad of concealed paraphernalia in his hand.

“I’m going downstairs to throw all of this out.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

Justin nodded. “Okay.”

After letting out a deep breath, Clay turned to leave the room. Justin sat, waiting for his return. When a short while had passed, Justin grew curious, and stood to look out of the window—just in time to see the boy taking out the garbage. It was a full trash bag he was carrying towards the street, but Clay didn’t simply dump it in the canister—he took out the three other bags inside of it, dropped the one he’d just taken from the house inside of it, and replaced the other three back inside the trash can.

The boy looked up from the street, catching Justin’s gaze. Justin fled from the window, quickly sitting on the bed again as the back of his neck burned. Clay returned upstairs shortly afterwards.

“I was just wondering what was taking you so long,” Justin let out as soon as the boy entered the room.

“I was clearing out the trash from the whole house,” Clay said. “It was my night to do it, anyway.”

He knelt before Justin and looked up at him. “Is there _anything _more in the house anywhere?”

“No,” Justin replied, shaking his head, “nothing more.”

“Nothing in this room?”

“No.”

“Even—close by, or a hidden stash?”

“No.”

Clay’s expression grew anxious, and he sat on the floor, leaning against the bed. Justin slid off the mattress and sat beside the boy.

“This was hell for you last time,” Clay remarked. “And here I am now, making you go through this again.”

Justin shook his head, taking the boy’s knee. “I _want _to do this. I want to get clean.”

Clay sighed. “There are—easier ways to go about this. Safer ways than, than going cold turkey.”

“But not without telling your parents.”

Clay looked at him. “Realistically, no. But even still—there could be complications. I have a few guesses as to what the pills were exactly, but they’re stronger shit than heroin, I’m certain. And there’s greater risks during the detox.”

Justin managed a smile. “They’re oxy, Clay. So, are we, like, swapping places from last night?”

The boy looked towards the floor. “I thought I had it all figured out. But now that we’re actually here—I’m starting to wonder if this is really beyond me.” He looked at Justin again. “This could be your _life_ we’re talking about, here.”

Shrugging, Justin said, “Well, we’ve got Sheri as backup, too, don’t we?”

Biting his lip, Clay nodded, then added, “And—we have Tony, now, too. I came clean to him after school, today.” When Justin gaped at him, the boy went on, “Don’t worry—I expressly forbade him from breaking your legs. Or doing anything of the sort to you.”

Justin chuckled. “I’m sure he—he means well.”

Clay nodded again, clicking his tongue. “Yeah, I’m—I’m sure. Anyway, they—they both tried to reassure me that we could do this again, but I thought you deserved to know what you were really getting yourself into.” He sighed, and looked towards the couch. “I thought, I was sparing you the worry, but I remembered—I don’t have all the answers. I don’t always make the best choices.”

“Well,” Justin offered, “you have a far better track record than I do. You asked me this before, and my answer is still the same: I trust you, Clay, and I want to do this.”

The boy met his eyes. “You mean so much me, I can’t even begin to describe it. I don’t know what I’d do now, without you.”

Justin grasped Clay’s hand. “I’m not going anywhere.” He nodded his head towards the door. “Come on, finish up, and let’s turn in for the night.”

They stood, and Clay retrieved a fresh towel from the closet while Justin settled in on the couch, his feet towards the door this time. As his boyfriend showered, Justin wrapped the sheets around himself before pulling out _Heart of Darkness._

_… It was very pretty to see how he baffled himself, for in truth my body was full only of chills, and my head had nothing in it but that wretched steamboat business. It was evident he took me for a perfectly shameless prevaricator. At last he got angry, and, to conceal a movement of furious annoyance, he yawned. I rose. Then I noticed a small sketch in oils, on a panel, representing a woman, draped and blindfolded, carrying a lighted torch. The background was sombre—almost black. The movement of the woman was stately, and the effect of the torchlight on the face was sinister…_

When Clay returned to the room, Justin slipped the book back into his backpack. He watched his boyfriend dress, who blushed slightly when he caught Justin’s gaze.

“You ogling me, Justin?”

It was impossible not to take in the boy’s bare expanse of skin, from his shoulders, along his back—past his ass—and down to his calves. Justin purposefully waited before answering.

“If I can’t touch—I figured I’d at least look.”

Clay slipped on a t-shirt, then gazed back at him. “You—like what you see?” he whispered.

“Always,” Justin breathed.

As the boy kept his eyes fixed on Justin, Clay approached him, and knelt beside the couch before leaning in towards him. Their faces just barely far enough to still meet each other’s eyes, Justin held his breath, waiting, before Clay finally met him all the way and kissed him. As chills surged down his core—and down to his crotch—Justin felt himself getting hard, fast. He felt Clay grasp his neck, and Justin reached to take his hand.

Slowly, he tried to guide his boyfriend’s hand towards his chest—then down his stomach. Clay inhaled sharply before drawing back suddenly. Justin let go of him.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Justin uttered, shutting his eyes, not wanting to see the disappointment in Clay’s eyes once again. “I, I just wanted you to know—how much I fucking want you.”

Feeling his boyfriend’s touch on his face, Justin opened his eyes to see a slight smirk shaping Clay’s lips. “I know,” the boy said. “I—fucking want you, too.”

Justin grinned. “I guess, we have something to look forward to—when this is all done?”

“Yes,” Clay agreed, nodding, then drawing in again for another brief kiss. After pulling back, he went on, “We sure do.”

Laughing, Justin said, “You’re gonna make me have a fucking wet dream like some preteen boy, Jensen.”

Clay grinned back at him. “Good night, Justin.”

“Night.”

After stepping across the room and shutting off the light, Clay settled into bed, and Justin watched the boy bring the covers over himself.

They were finally at the start of it. Now, they just had to fucking get through it.


	14. Thursday Thrumming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin encounters some unexpected drama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, looks like we've got some plot here (lol)! The show can be ambiguous or potentially inconsistent in certain respects when it comes to a timeline (I'm still mad about them retconning Clay pointing the gun at Bryce, grrr) but there are some points I need to lay now in order to give me some room for the events of season 3. I'm still not sure how things will go, exactly, because in terms what I have planned, season 3 is still a long ways off.

“Justin!”

His name ripped him back to consciousness as Justin felt every nerve in his body fire. Springing upwards, he waited for his vision to return as he peered through the darkness towards Clay’s bed and found the boy sitting up, too, with the covers sprawled around him.

“Clay?” Justin croaked.

Quickly looking towards Justin, Clay breathed, “I’m sorry,” before his voice broke and he started clutching his head. “I’m sorry,” the boy wept, “I—didn’t mean to shout like that.”

“Hey, hey,” Justin began, climbing off the couch and making for the bed.

“I, I really thought you were gone again,” Clay cried as Justin settled beside him, “but it was just, just one of those fucking—dreams within a dream…”

Justin embraced him tightly. “Hey,” he repeated, “it’s okay, Clay. It’s all right.”

“I’m so sorry…”

“Hush, it’s all right. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

As the boy continued to sob, Justin prompted him to lie back, and they settled beside each other beneath the covers, Clay clutching him desperately with both arms.

Despite that, the boy still seemed to weep.

“I’m here, Clay,” Justin reassured.

“You’ve left so many times,” Clay breathed.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I was so afraid you’d gone again.”

Justin sniffled, forcing back tears. “I won’t leave you again, Clay.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

“Never. Never again.”

They went back and forth like that as Clay continued to cry for several moments. Eventually, it occurred to Justin that the boy might actually still be asleep. Sleepwalking, or sleep—waking. Awake while sleeping. Whatever. It scared Justin that he couldn’t seem to rouse the boy, but after repeated assurances, gentle rubs, and quiet assurances to go back to sleep, Clay gradually settled.

When his boyfriend’s breathing almost immediately settled back into that pattern of slumber, though, Justin realized, yeah—Clay had to have been sleepwalking. Justin let out a muted sob as a few more tears fell from his eyes.

They had to get through this. Justin needed to get clean. They needed to get back to being good again.

Justin wasn’t going to ruin Clay like everyone else he loved.

~ ~ ~

Justin awoke again at dawn, right as the last vestiges of darkness were fading from the room. As he found Clay still clinging to him in his sleep, breathing steadily, Justin realized—with the boy still between his arms—that they must have still managed to find each other throughout the night.

It was still too dark for their usual wake-up time, and after briefly checking his phone, Justin saw that it was well before their alarm. He thought of going back to sleep, and tried to shut his eyes again, but after shifting slightly, Justin quickly discovered—sleep was going to be impossible.

Clay was hard. Really fucking hard. Like, _raging_ boner hard—and leaking through his underwear. All it took was the slight brush of his damp erection against Justin’s thigh to get the blood rushing down to his own cock. _Fuck_. He wanted Clay so fucking bad. _God._ What were they gonna do?

Luckily—mercifully—the boy made a noise, and shifted a little before turning away from Justin beneath the covers.

“Clay?”

His boyfriend made another noise, a soft grunt. “Is it time?” he uttered.

“No,” Justin breathed. “Are you awake?”

Clay shifted onto his stomach. “No,” he groaned into the pillow. Justin laughed.

“Nah uh,” he grunted, leaning towards Clay, _“someone _is very, _very _awake.” He brushed his own erection against the boy’s hip, drawing a sharp hiss from Clay as he tried to slide away.

“Okay,” Clay blurted, throwing the covers off them, “time to get up.”

“No no no no no no!” Justin countered as he threw his arms around the boy’s middle. Clay let out a brief laugh as he failed to get very far.

“Justin!”

“It’s too early!” Justin whined. “We haven’t had our snuggle time!”

His boyfriend giggled. “Snuggling is the last thing on your mind right now, Foley.”

As Clay stopped trying to get away, Justin closed the gap between them again, and couldn’t stop himself from grinding his hard-on slightly against the boy’s ass.

“You were practically wetting yourself,” Justin whispered into his ear. His boyfriend let out another hiss. “Come on, Clay—just a quickie. We’re both _so_ ready to blow.”

“Justin,” the boy uttered, “we talked about this.”

“I know,” Justin moaned, “I know, but I’ve never wanted anybody like I want you right now.” He squeezed Clay in his arms. “I want you so fucking bad, with nothing between us.”

“Justin…”

“I want your come all over me. You must be fucking ready to blow.”

“Justin—”

“I could blow my fucking load right now, Clay. Just say the word.”

The boy pulled away from Justin and sat up, his eyes flaring as he looked back down at him.

“Justin—enough!”

Feeling himself cringe—and a burst of shame explode throughout his core that smothered his erection near instantly—Justin averted his eyes as his throat spasmed.

“Fuck,” he breathed, “I’m—I’m sorry.”

Clay was beside him again immediately, and he began to caress Justin’s face as he made their eyes meet again.

“Justin, don’t apologize,” the boy whispered. He cleared his throat. “Believe me,” he went on, thumbing Justin’s cheek, “I want you—just as much as you want me. But seriously, though, how else am I gonna motivate you to get clean?”

As Clay began to smile, Justin let out a quick laugh. “Fair point.”

He nestled against Justin and laid his arm across his chest. “I know you have a—voracious sexual appetite, and once we’re through this, I kinda wonder if I’ll be able to keep up with you—but for right now, we gotta stay the course.”

Although Justin could still feel the boy’s erection against him, he took the boy’s hand. “I know. It’s just—your monster erections in the morning—make it really hard sometimes.” Justin snorted at the pun. “You know what I mean.”

Grinning, Clay drew his hip back slightly. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Justin giggled. “Is this the longest you’ve gone without jacking off?”

“Maybe? I don’t know, honestly. I—I don’t really keep track of that.”

“What about—the longest you’ve _purposely _not gotten off, despite _really _wanting to?”

Clay chuckled. “Yeah, this—this is pretty up there.”

They were quiet for a moment. As the sun truly began to rise, brightening the room dramatically, Justin said, “You, you know I’d never—make you do anything you didn’t want to do, right? I’m sorry for putting pressure—”

“Justin,” Clay cut him off, sitting up to look at him directly, “you don’t need to apologize!” He grinned. “We were _both _in the moment, okay? One of us—just had to stop, though, or we would’ve gone all the way.”

Keeping his gaze on the boy, Justin shrugged, “Still, I mean it. We don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do.”

His boyfriend let his shoulders drop as he exhaled. “Let’s shelve this conversation for right now, okay?” He settled back against Justin, who brought his arms around the boy again. “I wanna make the most of our snuggle time.”

Justin giggled. When another moment of quiet between them passed, Justin asked, “Do you remember last night at all? Or I guess, this morning, rather?”

“No, why?”

“So, you don’t remember—waking up in the middle of the night?”

“No. I just assumed you’d—awoken in the middle of the night or something, and got into bed with me preemptively before I could have another nightmare. Which is incredibly sweet, by the way.” He took Justin’s hand and squeezed. “Thank you.”

Sighing, Justin admitted, “I wish I was that good, but no—you, you did have another nightmare, or so I thought. I, I tried to calm you down, but this was the first time that I—wasn’t getting through.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You were freaking out that I was gone, or I was leaving—even though I was right next to you. It took a while before I could get you to stop. Eventually, I figured out—maybe you were sleepwalking.”

“Huh.” Clay exhaled deeply. “I don’t remember that.”

“It, it was kinda scary.”

The boy squeezed him. “Sorry—about that. I guess it’s—like I mentioned before. This is just one of the ways I’m fucked up.”

“No, that’s not what I was getting at,” Justin insisted. “It’s not your fault. You mentioned it was like, a—dream within a dream.”

“Yeah, I’ve—definitely had those. I’ve had dreams where, it’s like, a part of me knows—this is a dream, this is a dream—but I still think I’m awake, and I tell myself, I can’t be dreaming. I’m actually doing stuff! And it’s a while before I actually wake up, and I’m relieved to be in my bed because things are so weird in the dream. It’s incredibly disorienting sometimes.”

“What are the things you’re doing in the dream?”

“Like, normal, everyday stuff. Being at school, or in class. Freaking out because something’s due that I never did.”

Justin tried not to grin. “Of course—you would dream about that. But,” he went on, nuzzling his cheek against Clay’s hair, “you weren’t actually sleepwalking, were you?”

“Mmm, no, I guess not,” Clay uttered. “But, I think I’ve done that, too. I think I’ve definitely gone to the bathroom before in my sleep before, once or twice. But I remember those times. Like, after the fact, though. I think, when you’re sleepwalking—you _don’t_ remember.”

“Mmm,” Justin echoed.

Clay’s phone began buzzing and chirping. Their alarm. Groaning, the boy turned over towards his nightstand and shut off the alarm, and Justin reached for his own phone to do the same (they set their alarms a minute apart). Clay looked back over at Justin.

“Let’s get the day going, shall we?” The boy cleared his throat. “But first, how are you feeling?”

Justin smiled. “Good. I’m good.”

“Good,” Clay repeated. He took Justin’s hand. “Let me know when that starts to change, okay?”

“Okay.”

They got up, went down for breakfast, and got ready for school. With totally blue skies above, the weather had cleared up completely from the night before. No hint of rain had remained.

On the drive in, Clay asked, “Would you mind if we waited for Scott at his locker? Before homeroom?”

Chuckling despite himself, Justin replied, “No, I wouldn’t. That was the plan, right?” They were ahead of schedule, he realized.

“Yeah. I just, I want to clear the air as fast as possible.”

They set off towards the school’s main entrance after parking the car. Justin noticed there seemed to be slightly less kids around that morning, but chalked it up to them being early. As luck would have it, they found Scott right at his locker, who saw them coming and quickly looked away as he started laughing to himself.

“Jesus,” Scott muttered as they approached.

Clay pressed ahead, but slowed as he approached, thumbing his backpack straps. “Hey, Scott.”

“Hey Scott,” Justin echoed, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could.

“Hey Clay. Hey Justin,” Scott intoned.

“How are you doing?” Clay went on.

“I’m okay,” Reed said, pulling a binder from his locker, “really.” He gave a flat smile. “Actually, could we—_not_ actually do this right now?” He turned towards his locker. “I mean, I’m totally cool to forget this ever happened. I’d really rather just crawl into a hole and die, so…”

“Scott, come on,” Clay insisted, “you don’t have anything to be ashamed about.”

“Don’t I?” Scott looked towards Justin.

“You don’t,” Justin affirmed, then shook his head. “You didn’t know.”

“And we’re not gonna say anything to anyone,” Clay continued, “so you don’t have to worry about that. But—Justin told me everything you’d been going through, and we’re here for you, whenever you wanna talk. Or just to hang out. Whatever. If you need something to do, or some place to go.”

Scott pulled a book from his backpack and chuckled. “I’m guessing this is a package deal, then?” He looked towards Justin. “You don’t want me around Clay unless you’re there?”

Justin shook his head. “No, that’s not what we’re saying. I know you’re not gonna try anything again. It’s just that—well, you told your story to me first, and—and I sorta get how you feel.”

“And,” Clay added, “I think I know what you’re going through, too. I still miss him most days. Even now.”

Scott had his gaze towards his locker, but Justin could see him swallow. “I never put it together about Sheri and the accident until the tapes got out, even after she went to juvie. Too busy wallowing in my own shit. She actually came up to me and apologized that day, and I was fucking clueless. When I asked her what she was talking about, she just said, ‘listen to the tapes.’”

He turned towards them, shutting his locker. “They’re heavy shit!”

Justin and Clay glanced at each other. Clay looked back at Scott. “You’re telling us.”

Scott shook his head. “I guess she said that to me so that, I dunno, I wouldn’t hate her. Hannah, I mean. Yeah, there was anger there, initially,” Reed shrugged, “but how the fuck am I supposed to be mad at someone who’s dead?”

Clay nodded, and Justin looked over to see the boy’s eyes misting slightly. “Yeah,” Clay agreed, “I’m sorry that the tapes were how you had to find out about all that.”

“I’m not judging you,” Scott interjected, looking at each of them, “either of you.” He looked towards Clay again. “But yeah, after hearing your tape, I kinda guessed—you’d know what I was going through, too.”

“So, yeah!” Clay exclaimed, raising his shoulders in a prolonged shrug. “You don’t need to—purposely bomb your papers so we can hang out. I know you don’t really need the help in that area.”

Scott grinned, then shook his head again. “I didn’t mean to play games.”

“You should hang with me and Zach, too,” Justin added. “Don’t be afraid to, to reach out. Zach’s a good guy.”

“Yeah,” Reed agreed, “he is.”

“Are you and—Sheri,” Justin went on, “on, on good terms, though?”

“Yeah, we’re cool. Jeff wouldn’t have held it against her, so how could I—after she served time, too?”

“So,” Clay said, “are we—are _we_ cool?”

Scott nodded. “Yeah, we’re cool.”

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” Clay went on.

Smiling, Reed nodded. “Yeah, really—I’m gonna be okay.”

Clay cleared his throat. “Have you—have you talked to Jeff’s parents at all?”

“No. Not—not since the funeral.”

Clay nodded. “Well, it—it might help you. It helped me. Just, just something to think about.”

Scott nodded as well, slowly. “Yeah, I—I will.”

The first bell rang, and Justin and Clay parted ways from Scott. Clay let out a long sigh as they walked.

“I suppose,” the boy said, “that could’ve gone much worse.”

“Yeah, agreed,” Justin said.

“We should still keep an eye on him, though, I think.”

“Why? Do you really think he’s—he’s gonna hurt himself or something?”

Clay shook his head as he shrugged, coming to a stop. “I don’t think so, but—if he’s going through with Jeff what I went through with Hannah…” The boy sighed. “Like I said—I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.”

He gazed at Justin. “And as far as we know, he doesn’t have anybody yet—like I have you.” He looked down, and reached out for Justin’s hand.

Justin felt his breath catch in his chest as he stared at his boyfriend’s outstretched hand. There were kids around, and they were in the middle of the hallway—where everyone would see.

Clay fucking Jensen. Always full of surprises.

Grinning, Justin took Clay’s hand in return. “Yeah,” Justin agreed, “you’ve definitely got me.”

They continued down the hall, hand in hand.

~ ~ ~

Justin got a text from Zach asking if they could chat after lunch. He responded, _OK,_ but with exam scheduling in a few classes, lunch periods were again shuffled, and Justin thought he might actually see Zach at lunch.

Instead, he spotted Courtney and Marcus sitting at a table together after getting his tray. Justin considered simply walking past them, but Courtney eagerly waved to get his attention.

“Justin!” she called. “Come sit with us!”

Although he wasn’t necessarily thrilled, Justin obliged her, and sat his tray down across from her and Marcus. “Hey, how’s it going?” he greeted.

“‘Sup, Justin,” Marcus said.

“Long time no see,” Justin went on, suppressing a smirk.

Marcus nodded as Courtney smiled. “Yeah, yeah,” he agreed, “I’ll give you that. Courtney’s been filling me in, and it sounds like I’ve missed quite the spectacle during my suspension.”

“I still think your punishment was excessive,” Courtney remarked.

Shrugging, Marcus said, “Yeah, well, I pretty much shit in Bolan’s face, so, I wasn’t surprised.” He looked at Justin. “Although I get the feeling I’m not the only one who’s used to unjust sentences.”

“I take it you heard about my stint in juvie?” Justin asked, taking a bite of his hot dog.

“That, amongst other things,” Marcus continued. “You staying with the Jensens now, too?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Marcus grinned. “There have been some—interesting rumors going around about you and Clay. Not sure I can really buy into the stuff I’m hearing these days, but I suppose—crazier things have happened.”

Feeling his cheeks burn slightly, Justin shrugged. “What’s it to you?”

“Oh,” Courtney interjected, “we’re not trying to put pressure on you or anything. We just wanted to give you the chance to set the record straight. And maybe spread around some happy news at this school—for once.”

Marcus flashed his palms. “It’s none of my business. I was just curious, that’s all. People have been talking about me, and if you’ve heard any of the rumors—they’re completely true. My suspension cost me my scholarship, and I’m now pretty much praying that my third fall-back school doesn’t pull out for the same reason—so yeah, my life is over.”

“Marcus, come on,” Courtney said, “it’s not that bad, all things considered.”

“I’m glad someone thinks so, at least,” Marcus sighed.

“Shit,” Justin remarked, “would a school really rescind your admission because of that?”

“It can, and does, happen,” Marcus replied, “if news of your spectacle spreads beyond just the local paper.”

“You’ve gotta stay positive, Marcus,” Courtney said. “It’s true, what they say, you know—no one’s gonna judge or care what you did in high school, or what happened to you as a teenager.”

Marcus chuckled. “Easy for you to say—when your future still looks pretty bright.” He looked towards Justin. “What about you? Are you still graduating this year?”

Justin shook his head. “I’m too far behind, and my schedule’s all fucked up. I most likely have to do summer school to catch up, and if I really wanted to, I could finish in the fall, but I won’t. I’m gonna take the year.”

Marcus nodded as Courtney said, “That’s a good idea, Justin. No reason to rush things.”

“I’ll probably do the same as Ryan,” Marcus said to her, “take a gap year. Live abroad somewhere. Or do Peace Corps. Find myself. Something.”

He looked at Justin again. “You’re not gonna let Bryce keep you down, right?”

Justin gave a slight smile. “Hell no.”

Marcus smiled back, then looked at Courtney. “Well, then—I guess I’ve got no excuses, either.”

Courtney laughed, then leaned over towards Justin, placing her hand on the table before him. “Okay, seriously, Justin, I’ve been dying to know—are Clay’s parents adopting you for real?”

“Yeah,” Justin answered, nodding, “they are.”

As Courtney squealed, Marcus asked, “Are you and Clay a thing, too? An item?”

Justin took a deep breath. “Yeah,” he replied. “That’s true, too.”

When Marcus and Courtney glanced at each other again, they laughed. “Plot twist!” Marcus exclaimed, looking back towards Justin.

“Oh,” Courtney gushed, “I’m really happy for you, Justin. You and Clay both deserve some happiness after everything that’s happened.”

“Thanks,” Justin said, giving a slight smile.

“That’s amazing,” Marcus added, “wow. I can’t believe this school is still capable of serving up some happy surprises, at least.” He grinned at Courtney. “Looks like you’re not the only one to find themselves.”

Courtney giggled. “True, true.”

They went through the rest of lunch chatting about random topics, including how Marcus ceded the student-body presidency to Courtney, and Justin was happy to let them make most of the conversation at the table. He still wasn’t quite sure where he stood, really, with them, but figured that maybe Marcus, like Justin, was trying to find his way in a post-Bryce world. Courtney seemed to be better off, and Justin figured, maybe she was just doing what she always did—be annoyingly friendly with people.

Justin found Zach as the lunch period ended, crossing paths with his friend while leaving the cafeteria.

“‘Sup, Zach,” Justin greeted, offering a hand as they came to a stop just by the corner of the hallway.

“Justin, hey!” Zach greeted in return, taking Justin’s hand in return before dabbing their shoulders together.

“You needed to talk?” Justin continued.

Zach nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, I did. I dunno if you’ve been keeping track, but football Spring tryouts are coming up. With Bryce gone—I’m thinking of going for captain.”

Justin grinned and patted his friend’s arm. “Hell yeah, Zach! You definitely should. Shit, who else is gonna even come close to leading the team?” Justin scoffed. “Luke?”

Zach laughed. “Thanks, man. I, I appreciate the vote of confidence. Though—I hate to say it—without Monty, we’re short on competent wide receivers and safeties.” He set his gaze on Justin. “What do you say? Feel like helping me fill the void so the Tigers have at least _some _chance next year?”

Forcing a smile, Justin let out an airy laugh. “Scott’s still on the team, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he is.” Zach shrugged. “Still—look, I know football was never really your thing, but—I could really use someone who I know’ll—have my back.”

Justin blew out a long breath. “I—I dunno, man. It’s just—I mean, I just don’t know if that, that life is really me, still, you know?”

Zach nodded again. “Yeah, I get that. I—I really do. There’s a real chance to turn things around, though. Having a real team—being part of something bigger than yourself—it doesn’t have to be as twisted or as dark as Bryce and Monty made things out to be. Jock—doesn’t have to be a dirty word at Liberty. Not anymore.”

Justin let out another sigh, then laughed. “Man, you’re really laying it on thick, aren’t you?”

Zach laughed with him. “Sorry, yeah, I guess that was a little—corny. Still, though, you’ll think about it, at least, right?”

“Yeah—I will.”

Zach patted Justin’s shoulder. “There’s a place for you on the team if you decide to take it. But—there’s something else a little more immediate that, that I need your help on.”

Justin sobered his expression. “What’s up?”

Zach let out a long breath. “I heard about Tyler—getting kicked out of school. There’s something I’ve been meaning to—to come clean about. To Clay.”

“Come clean to me about what?”

Zach jolted with a _shit!_ right after Clay came around the corner, making Justin laugh. Clay really had the best, or worst, timing sometimes.

“Damn, Clay,” Zach sighed, “you, you really know how to sneak up on people sometimes.”

Clay shook his head. “I wasn’t sneaking, I was just—walking. To the cafeteria.”

As Zach seemed to force a laugh, Justin asked Clay, “You’ve got lunch now?”

“Yeah,” his boyfriend replied, “it got switched.” He looked back towards Zach. “I take it we’ve got the same lunch period today? What did you need to come clean to me about?”

Zach gave Justin a long look before replying. When Zach seemed to hesitate, Justin cut in, “Zach’s asked me to join the football team. I said I’d think about it.”

As Clay nodded like he was about to speak, Zach cut in, “No, that wasn’t it. I—I need to come clean about the night of the Spring Fling.” He sighed. “I was the one who called the police.”

Justin felt his face burn as he saw Clay’s expression darken. After swallowing, the boy asked, “Why—are you telling me this now?”

Zach shook his head. “I heard about Tyler—getting expelled.” He started rubbing his own arm. “I know how much you were—really trying to look out for him. I just—I couldn’t keep facing you every day—holding that back.”

Clay furrowed his brow as he took a step towards Zach. “I had a plan, Zach!” the boy hissed. “We could’ve saved him from all of this!”

Justin stepped forward, grasping his boyfriend by the shoulder. “Hey, come on,” he began.

Zach continued shaking his head. “I know you had a plan, or thought you had one, but I did what I thought was right at the time.”

“Tyler’s life is ruined now because of this!” Clay pressed. “Because of something that wasn’t his fault!”

Throwing up his hands, Zach countered, “Look, I thought you and Tony were gonna get yourselves killed, all right? I didn’t think—the cops could possibly make the situation worse.”

“The cops did kind of make things a lot worse,” Justin remarked, unable to help himself.

After gaping at Justin for a moment, Zach looked back at Clay. “Seriously? Did you really think you could’ve kept that all under wraps? Did you think no one would find out what he tried to do?”

Clay seemed to take a moment to collect himself, but continued to glare at Zach. “I guess we’ll never know, now, since the cops took away our choice in the matter.”

Justin felt the twinge of a craving spike down his back. Even though Zach made no move to engage Clay, Justin had not been expecting to end up between them, today of all days. Between his best friend, and his boyfriend. On the day he was supposed to start his detox.

“Guys, look,” Justin said, managing to nudge Clay back from Zach slightly, “what happened—happened. If it hadn’t been Zach, it could’ve easily been someone else: Cyrus, or his sister; maybe even Chloe. I told her what was going on without thinking when I was trying to find Jess.”

Clay looked back at Justin. “Why?”

“Because she was with her at the time.”

“Look,” Zach cut in, “Tyler needs serious help. And he’s getting it, now, isn’t he?” He held up his palms. “Monty’s in jail for what he did. Isn’t that what really matters?”

Clay seemed to swallow as his glare softened, but only just. “We all still owe Tyler. This isn’t over—not by a long shot.”

Nodding, Zach said, “I know. Believe me, I’m gonna do what I can to help him, too. But seriously, though, Clay—I know your heart’s in the right place, but you don’t always know what’s best for everyone. Sometimes—you’ve just got to take a step back. And maybe get a second opinion.”

When the warning bell rang, Zach patted Justin’s arm goodbye and stepped around Clay towards the cafeteria. Justin watched the boy fume for a moment, his eyes seemingly drawn towards the floor.

Justin grasped his boyfriend’s arm. “Hey, you okay?”

Clay huffed, not meeting Justin’s gaze. “You think he’s right, don’t you?”

Sighing, Justin said, “Please don’t make me pick sides.”

The boy finally looked at Justin, and his eyes were glinting. “I guess I’ve got my answer.”

When Clay turned to walk away from him, Justin called, “Clay! Wait!” When the boy ignored him, Justin spun around, letting out a _fuck! _beneath his breath as he made for his next period.

Why did the day have to take such a shitty turn?


	15. Recovery, Revisited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin attends another recovery meeting.

Justin found it difficult to focus during his next periods as his anxiety and his craving stubbornly tangoed across his skin, rattling his nerves in a vicious cycle of distraction. The harder he tried to put it out of his mind, the more Justin realized how much he’d stepped in it between Zach and Clay.

Clay’s plan the night of the Spring Fling was still a sore subject that Justin had no desire to retread. They hadn’t talked about it, but given the boy’s reaction to Zach coming clean, it was obvious Clay still had strong feelings about how the night went down. Even after all that he’d done for Tyler, did Clay _still _think he’d failed him?

The boy couldn’t control everything—that much, Justin agreed. But was there room for Zach to soften the blow to Clay’s ego, when it was clear it was still really raw for him? Absolutely.

Justin had wondered if—hope against hope, perhaps—that Clay and Zach might have actually sat down at lunch and talked things through. He hated the shifting lunch schedules, and he wished he could’ve been there to talk them down, or force them to talk. Or keep things from stewing—festering—between them.

But what if he couldn’t? What if, worse comes to worst, he had to pick a side? Apparently, neutrality wasn’t an option, and Clay had already seemed to think that Justin _had_.

Justin didn’t understand it. Not really. And it made counting down the seconds to the end of the day excruciating. He seriously considered texting Clay, but decided against it, and clung to the hope that he, himself, was simply blowing things out of proportion.

He couldn’t tell, really. Not without his usual filter flowing through his bloodstream.

When the last bell finally rang, Justin was up and out of his seat—having never really unpacked his shit to begin with. He’d already had everything he needed, considering the plan for the weekend, so he went straight for Clay’s locker, where he found the boy seemingly struggling with his lock.

“Damn it,” Clay huffed, striking the locker—the sound of which made Justin nearly jolt. Although—it wasn’t _that _loud. Not enough to attract attention from anyone else in the hall.

Justin slowed his approach. “Do you need help?” he asked meekly.

His boyfriend sighed, offering him a quick glance. “Yes. Please open this for me. You’re gonna get it on the first try—and not tenth, I know it—so prove me right.”

Justin spun in the combination, and to his relief, the lock gave way after he landed on the last number.

“Thank you,” Clay said.

Stepping aside, Justin quietly asked, pouting his lips, “Are you mad at me?”

Justin was purposely trying to play up his cutesy-sorry routine, and when the boy looked at him, he gave a brief laugh. That quick smile was enough to lift Justin’s spirits, and he grinned back at Clay.

“No, I’m not mad at you. I’m sorry I—made it seem like it, earlier.” The boy shook his head as he dropped a book into his backpack. “I talked to Bolan earlier. I tried to see if he would budge on Tyler’s expulsion or not.”

Justin tapered his grin. “Was that—really such a good idea?”

“Nope,” Clay said simply. “Spoiler alert—it wasn’t. Because Bolan is a dick. And it came from the school board. So yeah, he’s all dick. No balls.”

Letting out a brief laugh, Justin said, “Clay, the school board’s above him. It’s not like—”

“I know,” his boyfriend interrupted, “I know. I’m just venting.” He smirked at Justin. “I’m surprised you’re not using the opportunity to point out exactly how right Zach was.”

Justin sighed and threw his head back for a moment. “He wasn’t—_completely _right. I mean—”

“No, he—_definitely_ was,” Clay countered. “It’s why I went to Bolan, honestly. I just thought that—maybe, just maybe—I wasn’t completely insane.”

“Clay,” Justin began.

The boy shut his locker and turned to Justin. “Come on. Let’s go.”

When the boy started walking, Justin hesitated, but then moved to catch up with him. Clay didn’t slow his pace, though, so Justin let himself trail behind him, and they didn’t say anything until they got to the car.

Once inside the Prius, Clay made no move to start the car. When it looked like the boy was hesitating, Justin took the chance to speak.

“You still saved Tyler. You know that, right?”

Clay looked at him for a moment, then gazed back towards the dashboard. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“What happened at lunch?” Justin went on. “Did you and Zach ice each other out?”

“Kind of. I mean, we didn’t sit together, but near the end of it, when we were walking out, we talked. We’re okay—don’t worry about us. That’s the last thing you need to worry about right now.”

“Okay. But, sure,” Justin continued, “you make mistakes, but you’re not alone. We’ve _all _made mistakes. We all make mistakes. You’re only human. What matters is that you’ve got the balls to make them in the first place.”

Clay gave him a small, brief smile. “You should still call me out on my shit, though. I don’t want or expect you to blindly obey or agree with everything I say or do.”

Justin grinned back at him. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be doing this week?”

The boy chuckled. “I know you’re joking, but, seriously—we don’t need to agree on everything in order to be together. Check my shit! I might not act like it at the time, but, really, I still want you to do it.”

Clay looked at him. “In fact, I think I, I really do need you to be my—my second opinion, more than anything, right now.”

Justin met his eyes. “Second opinion—about what?”

The boy swallowed. “Maybe—we need to call the plan off. Maybe—we need to detox you properly. Maybe, we shouldn’t risk doing this a second time on our own.”

Justin shook his head. “But, if I get help—if I go to rehab…my case?”

Clay’s eyes started to gleam slightly. “Maybe this is all really beyond me. Maybe you need to get clean, more than you need to be adopted. Maybe I shouldn’t be so selfish—and keep you here at the cost of your health.”

His throat starting to prickle, Justin insisted, “I’m not leaving you again, Clay. Not unless you want me to go.”

“I don’t.”

“Then I’m staying.”

Clay sniffled and looked back towards the steering wheel. “What if I’m wrong again? What if this doesn’t work?”

Justin reached across and took his boyfriend’s hand. Clay looked back at him. “I can do this, Clay. I _want _to do this—the way we discussed. The way you planned it. I don’t wanna jeopardize my adoption hearing. I want to stay with you through all this.” He brought both of his hands together around Clay’s.

“Frankly,” Justin went on, “I don’t think I could do this without you.”

Clay smiled gently at him. “Forward, not back, right?”

“Together,” Justin affirmed. He leaned towards Clay, and they met halfway for a kiss, grasping each other’s cheeks.

When they parted, they still held each other in proximity, and Clay said, “I could really go for a smoothie right now. Or something really sugary. You feel like Rosie’s? Or Monet’s?”

Justin grinned. “Let’s do Monet’s.”

“Done,” Clay said. He started the car, and they set out from the parking lot.

~ ~ ~

The drive to Monet’s was a short one, and with no line to wait in, Justin hung back with Clay to examine the menu. After Justin agreed to what appeared to be the most sugary blended ice drink Monet’s offered, Clay ordered for them both as Justin sat at a nearby table. He saw the boy text on his phone for a moment before sitting down with Justin as they waited for their drinks.

“Sheri’s gonna meet us here,” Clay said.

“She is?” Justin asked.

“Supplies,” his boyfriend answered simply, and Justin nodded, understanding immediately.

“I had a little wobble earlier, but I’m pretty okay right now.”

Clay regarded him as guilt dampened his expression. “Because of me and Zach?”

Justin casually shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m okay right now—really.”

The boy sighed, rubbing his face. “Shit, I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s okay!” Justin insisted, reaching across the table to take Clay’s hand. “Seriously.”

Clay met his gaze. “Do I—really have that much of an effect on your craving?”

Justin suppressed a grin. “Clay,” he purred, “you affect me—in all _kinds _of ways.”

The boy snorted with laughter. “Oh my god,” he breathed, covering his face, “I cannot believe your corniness works on me, too.”

Laughing with him, Justin asked, “What do you mean?”

His boyfriend shook his head. “Nothing. Jess has just—enlightened me about some of the things you do.”

“Oh shit,” Justin groaned, albeit with a grin, “you two are talking about me, now?”

The barista called Clay’s name, so the boy stood quickly to retrieve their order. After Clay returned and set their drinks on the table, Justin repeated, “What—are you and Jess gossiping about me behind my back?”

Clay shook his head. “No, we’re not—gossiping, per se. And no, I haven’t—spilled the beans on what exactly we’re doing. And she still doesn’t know about your relapse, either, by the way. This week, she’s just been kind of, I don’t know—she’s just been trying to relay to me all the cute and cheesy things you do.”

Justin furrowed his eyebrows briefly. “Why?”

Clay took a sip of his drink through the straw. “Okay, not—_relaying_ to me, exactly, but she’s been asking if you still do all these little things when you’re happy, or trying to show affection, or when you’re sorry.” He looked at Justin. “Basically—she’s been trying to make sure I’m not still mad at you.”

Pouting, Justin asked, “Are you mad at me?”

“No!” Clay exclaimed, then laughed and shook his head as he made a gesture of _uh hello? _with his hands. “Justin!”

He shook his head as it dawned on him, and he laughed with Clay. “Oh, right—duh.”

“She was essentially sticking up for you, and talking you up to me,” the boy went on. “Not that I needed any help staying sweet on you.”

“Aww,” Justin uttered, and Clay grinned. “What did she tell you,” Justin went on, “the things I do?”

“I don’t wanna tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you to stop doing them.”

They grinned at each other as they each sipped their drinks. Not long afterwards, Sheri came into the café and met them at the table.

“Hey guys,” she greeted as she sat, setting her book bag down on the floor. After Justin and Clay greeted her back, she continued, “Change of scenery? I thought I was gonna meet you guys at the house.”

Clay shrugged. “I needed a sugar boost.”

“I see that,” Sheri said, remarking at the brightly-colored concoctions on the table. She looked towards Justin as she unzipped her backpack. “That’ll be a good boost for right now, but you should try to go for something more substantial later.”

“Don’t worry,” Clay interjected, “I got him covered.”

Justin watched as Sheri placed Pepto-Bismal, ibuprofen, two bottles of Gatorade, a box of crackers, and more on the table, while Clay pulled out his wallet and handed her cash. Justin couldn’t help chuckling.

“I feel like I’m witnessing a drug deal.”

“Ha ha,” Sheri said.

Clay smirked at him. “Babysitting you all week hasn’t been easy, you know.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing?” Justin asked, pouting.

The boy rolled his eyes as Sheri laughed. “I offered to pick up a few things.”

“And I’ve been trying to keep our routine as normal as possible,” Clay added.

“I feel like we could’ve managed—stopping by the store,” Justin insisted.

“When?” Clay scoffed. “Scott was enough of a curveball as it was. And I never go grocery shopping, so I didn’t want to tip my parents off.”

“Clay’s actually put quite a lot of planning into this week,” Sheri said, smiling.

Justin shook his head and sighed. “Fine, fine,” he said, taking another sip of his drink, “I’ll shut up. I clearly should’ve been paying more attention.”

“Were you able to help Scott redo his paper?” Sheri asked Clay.

The boy nodded, shooting Justin a knowing glance. “Yeah, I did. He should be set, now.”

Clay and Justin split everything between their own backpacks and they sat for a short while with Sheri making small talk about school and the week so far. They touched a little on Tyler’s expulsion, Zach going for football captain, and Justin’s coming recovery meeting.

“Is it just like a room where you all sit in a circle and talk?” Sheri asked.

“Kinda,” Justin replied. “This one was a lot bigger, with a lot of people, but I’ve only had one meeting so far, so…”

“Speaking of which,” Clay cut in, standing, “we really need to get going if we’re gonna make it in time.” He looked at Justin. “Did you need to stop home?”

Justin stood with him, as did Sheri. “No,” Justin answered, “but I’m gonna use the bathroom real quick before we go.”

When Clay and Sheri exchanged glances, Justin hesitated, and it dawned on him. Right. Unscheduled deviation from the plan. Had the stop at Monet’s already been another deviation, too?

“Never mind,” Justin offered, shaking his head. “I’ll wait ‘till we get to the meeting.”

“No,” Clay insisted, “use the bathroom if you need to. No reason to wait. We might be over an hour in traffic, today.”

“Okay,” Justin said, and made for the bathroom—making a point to leave his backpack with them. As he walked, he realized, maybe he shouldn’t yet be taking Clay’s apparent trust for granted—they were barely out of the woods, yet. Far from it.

He made a point to relieve himself and wash up as quickly as possible so that he wasn’t out of sight for too long. He counted—and he was gone for just over a minute. When he came back to Sheri and Clay, he hung his head and uttered, “Sorry,” as he picked up his book bag.

Clay grasped Justin’s arm and squeezed his shoulder. “You don’t need to apologize,” he assured. Justin felt himself flush as Clay went on, “You haven’t done anything.”

“Don’t go soft on me just yet,” Justin insisted.

As they made their way out of the café, Sheri was grinning at them. “My God, you two are so adorable. You’re gonna get through this. I know it.”

Clay blushed as Justin grinned back at Sheri.

~ ~ ~

They hit a backlog of traffic shortly after pulling onto the highway. Foreseeing another long drive ahead of them, Justin pulled out his physics binder and textbook and started working.

Clay looked over at him with a grin. “Wow, are you doing your homework?” the boy asked.

“Might as well, right?” Justin replied with a shrug.

“You trying to impress me, Foley?”

Justin suppressed a grin. “Maybe.” Clay laughed.

They managed to work together through the stop-and-go traffic, with Justin asking questions whenever he got stuck. After nearly an hour, they finally neared their exit, and Clay pulled off the familiar ramp leading towards the rec center. Once they crossed onto the lot, Clay parked the car and looked towards Justin, eyeing him thoughtfully.

“You gonna be okay?” his boyfriend asked.

Justin dropped his backpack in the backseat and reached over to squeeze Clay’s knee. “Yeah,” he answered, “I think so.”

Clay smiled. “I’ll see you soon.”

After stepping out of the car and shutting the door behind him, Justin walked towards the familiar drab building surrounded by equally drab developments and tried to recall his “homework” from the last meeting.

What had it been? Something about a moral inventory? Justin recalled Clay talking about it, too, but he also remembered the group leader basically saying to go through your past wrongs and the people you’ve affected. Justin scoffed as he neared the entrance to the building—he’d definitely done that in spades over the weekend, no doubt about that.

Once inside, Justin saw the same sign post with the _AA MEETING _and arrow printed on it directing him down the hallway towards the multipurpose room. He followed it there and found the group leader by the entrance, and she smiled warmly at Justin after he stepped through the large double doors.

“Welcome back, Justin,” she greeted.

“Hi…” was all Justin could manage. Shit, what was her name again? He looked past her to see the chairs in the room laid out in the same large semicircles as last time.

“Feel free to have a seat anywhere, just like last week.”

There seemed to be the same initial number of people scattered throughout the chairs as last Thursday, but as Justin crossed the room, he spotted a tall, familiar figure with wildly spiked blond hair sitting near the back row and changed course.

Sam grinned at Justin as he approached. “Hey bitch,” he said as Justin sat down.

“Hey Sam,” Justin greeted in return with a grin of his own.

“I have to say,” Sam went on, putting a hand over his chest, “I’m truly impressed. I did not think I’d see you back here.”

Chuckling, Justin asked, “How come?”

“Oh, honey, the same reason I think I’ve left the oven on even though I don’t bake—no reason. Just my abandonment issues poking through.” He crossed his legs. “Anyway, how _are _you?”

“I’m alright,” Justin said, shrugging. “It’s been a tough week, but—it’s almost over. You?”

Sam nodded. “I actually had a pretty good week, all things considered. But—to keep myself from falling into the trap of always talking about myself—how come your week has been so rough?”

Sighing, Justin thought for a moment. Even back in juvie, Sam had always been able to cut right through his bullshit. Justin had figured, maybe it was because Sam was a master bullshitter himself. Although he sensed his new friend would see right through him, anyway, Justin still felt an overwhelming urge to tell the truth.

“I’m detoxing this weekend,” Justin said, lowering his voice. “My, my boyfriend—found out I was still using, and it nearly broke us.”

Sam’s eyes widened for a moment before he quickly collected himself. “Wow—wow. I’m, I’m both speechless and yet—honored—that you’d be so real with me right off the bat. Wow.”

Justin gave a brief laugh. “I’m sick of lying to people.” He shrugged. “I’m—done being alone.”

Sam regarded him as approval curved his lips. “This boy really loves you, doesn’t he?”

Grinning, Justin replied, “Yeah, he does. And I love him.”

“When did you come off the wagon?”

“Right when I got out.”

“And you’ve been living with him all this time, too, is that right?”

Justin nodded. “I managed to keep this from him—until this past weekend.”

Sam scoffed. “We addicts always seem to find the perfect ways to screw things up, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” Justin agreed. After a quiet laugh, he went on, “Well, what about you? What made your week so good?”

“What else?” Sam shrugged. “I met a cute boy.”

“Oh yeah?” Justin said, grinning.

“Yes, queen,” Sam confirmed, gazing towards the ceiling briefly, “but—it’s early days. I have _zero _expectations that it’ll actually work out ‘cause he goes to this stuffy private school near where you are, so if I happen to run into you, no, I’m not stalking you.”

Justin thought for a moment. “Stuffy private school—you mean, Hillcrest?”

_“That’s_ the one,” his friend said, pointing his finger at Justin.

Justin chuckled. “So what’s he like?”

Sam smiled, then rolled his eyes. “Oh, you know, the stereotypical tall, dark, and handsome, broody type.” He threw up his hands. “What can I say? I have a weakness!” They laughed.

“How’d you meet?”

“I was out on a call with my dad, who’s an EMT, by the way. Some poor lady passed out from a heatstroke or something at the mall, and he just happened to be there. We made eyes, and afterwards, we just started talking. We traded numbers before I had to leave with my dad, and we’ve been texting all week.”

Sam seemed to glow as he spoke, which made Justin smile. “You said your parents were divorced, right? What does your mom do?”

“Oh, she’s a trauma surgeon.” When Justin gave him a look, Sam went on, shrugging, “Yeah, they’re both medical-type people. Judge me if you want for having no inclination for medicine, but lemme tell you—having both people in a relationship be in high-stress, eighty-hour-plus jobs is definitely _not _the recipe for success.”

“No,” Justin insisted, “I wasn’t judging. I—I was surprised, is all. They sound like they have money—could they not keep you out of juvie?”

Sam laughed. “Oh, honey, they were trying to teach me a lesson. And you know what? It worked.” He winked at Justin. “And, besides—you have any idea how much debt medical school brings on?”

A procession of people entered the room, which prompted the group leader to start the meeting not long afterwards.

“Good evening, everybody,” she said, making towards the front of the room. “In case I did not get a chance to introduce myself to you, my name is Sandra, and I’d like to welcome you all again and thank you, sincerely, for coming.”

She started off their moment of prayer and reflection, and Justin bowed his head with most everyone else. The room was near silent for a few minutes, save for the occasional cough, before Sandra continued.

“Last week, we discussed, examined, and shared our own personal reasons and catalysts for change—our motivations to stay the course when our bodies and even our minds throw up roadblocks. I always like to make a point of saying that we are here because we want to be—because we want to be free of our addiction.

“As with any structure meant to endure, moral inventories take time—but they also take a group effort. If you weren’t here at our last meeting, I asked everyone to think through and reflect upon all the people who may or may not still be in our lives whom have been impacted by our addiction.

“They didn’t have to be necessarily just family, friends, and loved ones—but also colleagues, coworkers, and even acquaintances. As difficult as it may be to see the effects our addiction imposes on those closest to us, it also has an effect on the world around us. None of us live in a bubble, and our actions have consequences—and their impacts might not be immediately apparent without conscious reflection.”

Sandra began to walk slowly around the outside of the rows of chairs. “That’s why I wanted us to think of the people who we don’t necessarily know that well, because I’d like us to do a little bit of role play tonight.” When there was a chuckle, Sandra said, “No, not _that _kind of role play, Evelyn.” More laughs.

“Going over the mistakes of our past can be difficult, but it is only half the battle. The other half is the making of amends, and it can be extremely difficult for many of us. And, while we may offer our sorrow and regret, and we may ask for forgiveness—we can have no expectation that we will be forgiven, because forgiveness is something that is earned. Not taken. But asking—asking is always the first step.

“So, start with those strangers, those acquaintances. Think of them—and work your way up to those closest to you. As you work through your list, I’d like you to partner off or split into small groups. We’re going to serve as each other’s guinea pigs as we practice making amends, and offer our supportive, listening ears—even if the person you’re portraying is nothing like yourself.

“Take turns being the talker, and the listener. Talkers, discuss what you’d hope to hear, and listeners, offer advice on what you hear. And remember, we’re all here to support one another—because we know. We know.”

As the room broke out in the bustle of conversation and shifting chairs, Justin and Sam looked over at each other. Justin raised his eyebrows and shrugged as Sam snorted a laugh.

“What do you think?” Justin asked.

Sam was covering his face. “Oh God, I hate role play.”

“Really? I thought you’d be into that kinky shit.”

Sam shot him a death stare, albeit with a smirk, as Justin grinned. “You’d be so right!” his friend cried out. “But no, seriously, I’ve spent so much of my life role-playing.”

“Why don’t you go first?” Justin offered.

After giving a dramatic sigh, Sam seemed to ponder for a moment. “Why don’t you be Mr. Marks, the old man whose dog I couldn’t walk for him for a while because I was in juvie?”

Justin listened as Sam worked through an extensive list of people. His neighbors, his classmates, even the other kids in juvie when they were both inside. Either Sam had done a _lot _of reflection, or he was really just that aware. Which almost begged the question—why did he still drink?

Why did Justin still use, anyway?

“Okay, I think that’s all the superficial people on my list,” Sam remarked.

Justin widened his eyes at him. “That—was a list.”

Sam waved his hand and scoffed. “Who knows if those people really gave a shit. I was mainly projecting, which I guess is part of the point of this assignment. Anyway, you can be my nana, next. She was the one who usually looked after me when I was little.”

Justin hesitated. “Is she still around?”

Sam shook his head. “She died a few years ago,” he replied, clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Justin offered. He glanced towards the wall, and spotted Hannah leaning against it.

“No, don’t apologize,” Sam insisted, his eyes starting to glint, “but thank you. She never apologized for anything.” He let out a short puff of air. “Okay. Nana—I know, you probably haven’t liked what you’ve seen these past couple of months.”

He looked away from Justin. Past him. “You were always the one that was—just right, when Mom was too hot and Dad was too cold. There are some days that I miss you so—totally, overwhelmingly—like it just happened, and on those days, I try to remember how you’d smack me behind the head and tell me off for being such a drama queen.”

Sam laughed. “Sometimes I think everything would still be okay if you were still around, but that’s just me looking for something else to blame. So many times, when I’ve been faced with a choice—like there’s suddenly a cliff in front of me—I have purposely thought of you, and I can just imagine exactly what you’d say. Despite that, so many times, I’ve done ‘the wrong thing,’ anyway, and jumped.” Sam held up finger quotes.

“Most of the time, I’ve just rationalized it by thinking, ‘You’re dead. Gone. You don’t care anymore.’ And I know you’d slap my arm like you do every time I say something stupid.”

Sighing, Sam went on, “Okay, before I ramble on too much, I know exactly how you raised me, and I know exactly what I should do. I’m sorry I’ve been such a spoiled fag—and I know you would slap me for using that word—but I have been _supremely _shitty, so I think I deserve that one. I’m doing better—and I will do better. For you, and—I know—myself.”

When Sam finally looked back at Justin, he said, “You portray an uncharacteristically quiet Nana.”

Justin burst out laughing. “Dude, that was intense.”

Sam snorted a laugh. “She was the easy one, honestly! I don’t have to face her, like my mom, or dad, who are both still very much alive.”

He patted Justin’s shoulder. “Come on,” Sam prompted, “I think it’s your turn.”

Justin sighed, feeling his craving flare down his arm and leg. “Man, I am not half as smart as you to know all the random people I’ve affected with my addiction.”

Shrugging, Sam suggested, “Then, I say, fuck it. Let it be whoever you want it to be.”

Justin swallowed. He looked just down the row from Sam to see Hannah take a seat behind him. As she gazed back at him, Justin let out another sigh.

“I guess,” he began, “I’ll follow your example, and speak to someone who isn’t around anymore. She, she was never directly affected by my addiction, but the, the guilt—my guilt—of what happened to her—might be one of the reasons I use. Shit—not might. _Is._” He cleared his throat, then shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Sam nodded. “I feel like that’s perfectly valid.”

Justin cleared his throat, and looked towards the floor—towards Hannah’s shoes. “I know I—I was the beginning of the end for you. There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t wish I could’ve done things differently, knowing what I know now. But I can’t go back. I can only move forward. And ultimately, I know I have to realize—the choice you made was your own.”

He glanced up to see Hannah begin to cry. “I know you wanted me to understand, and I do now—I really do. And what you went through, I wouldn’t wish on anyone. I know you wouldn’t want to continue to see people getting hurt, or hurting themselves, and I know—you would want me to do better. Do better in the way you never could.”

Justin sniffled. “I know my words have little value, based on the things I’ve done, but I swear to you—you don’t have to worry about me any longer. I’ll spend the rest of my life working to do better, to become better—to be my own man, and not let the circumstances of my life so far define me.

“If there is any silver lining to come of all this, it’s that you’ve helped bring me to know what love truly is—in so many different ways. You’ve brought me to people who—for the first time in my life—I would truly give myself completely for. People I wouldn’t just die for—but _live _for, too.”

Justin wiped a tear from his cheek. “So, I hope you’re at peace now. Or—that you can find it, now, knowing that—at least—you don’t need to worry about me anymore. The only place I plan to go now is forward. Not back. And it’s because of you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the person you’ve helped me become—when it could’ve made all the difference. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m—I’m sorry.”

When Justin sniffled again, he looked to see Hannah gone. He glanced around the room, and saw many others in similar states of heavy emotion around them. Sandra was across the room comforting a man in tears.

He looked back at Sam, who let out a deep breath and wiped a tear from his eye. “Damn, Justin. You—you just know how to turn it on, don’t you?” Sam forced a laugh, wiping another tear from his cheek.

Justin coughed a laugh. “Yeah—yeah, I guess so.”

“Were you—were you talking about the girl on the tapes?”

Justin nodded. “Hannah. Hannah Baker, yes.”

Sam forced another laugh. “I was a nosy bitch. I listened to all the tapes online after I got out.”

Biting his lip, Justin said, “Wow. I’m surprised you still wanted anything to do with me.”

Sam shook his head. “It was only one side of the story, Justin. _Clearly_, you have been through the shitter yourself.” He grasped Justin’s shoulder. “Oh, fuck it,” he said, then leaned over to hug him as Justin laughed. “You know I’m a hugger.”

Justin embraced him back. After they parted, Sam went on, “You were so right when you said it was her choice, and her choice alone. Don’t let this guilt define you. We both need to believe—we are more than the sum of our worst mistakes.”

“Yeah,” Justin agreed, a brief sob escaping him. He sniffled. “Yeah, we are. We need to be.”

Sam smiled. “Amen, honey.”


	16. The Plan, Revisited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin begins his detox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit that I'm not 100% happy with the division of the last few chapters, and once this part of the series is done, I may go back and shift things. I've mainly been trying to have more content per chapter, but now that I have a final chapter count (yay) I don't have to wing it as much (lol) as this part of the series was FAR from finished when I started posting it. But alas, if given the chance, who DOESN'T binge-read??
> 
> So, this chapter is a little bit shorter than I intended due to the division and timing, but oh well...

Sandra formally announced the end of their time, but the meeting was slow to dissipate as people continued talking with one another. Justin and Sam grabbed water and a few pastries before they gradually made their way out of the multipurpose room and back towards the lobby, where others continued mingling. They made small talk about school until they got outside, where Sam then glanced around to ensure they weren’t in earshot of anyone.

“So, what—exactly—is your plan to detox this weekend?”

Justin grabbed his arm as his craving spiked down his neck. “Cold turkey, basically.”

Sam’s expression became grave, and he took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m gonna sugar coat this—because it’s something I’m working on—but are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’ve done it before,” Justin replied with a shrug.

“That doesn’t mean it’ll be any easier. Or any less dangerous. What are you coming off of, exactly? Still H?”

Justin shook his head. “Oxy.”

Sam sighed. “Dude, that shit is _worse_. Have you just been using it straight?”

Justin shook his head again. “I’ve been cooking it.”

He looked over to see Clay walking up towards them, hands in his pockets as he crossed the parking lot.

“Hi,” the boy said when he came up to them, offering his hand to Sam. “I’m Clay.”

Sam gave Clay a not-so-nice look but shook the boy’s hand anyway. “Sam. A pleasure. I’m sorry I can’t help this shitty-stank look on my face for a nice first impression, but Justin just told me the plan and—I have concerns.”

Clay folded his lips inwards and shot Justin a quick look, raising his eyebrows. “I might have guessed.”

“Look,” Justin said, “I want to do this.”

“I know,” Sam argued, “but there are easier—_safer_ ways to do this.”

Clay was nodding. “Believe me, I know.”

“Me staying with him, and his family,” Justin went on, “it’s not even a sure thing yet. Technically, it’s only temporary. I go to rehab now, or people find out I was still using—I go back in the system.”

Sam sighed. “You wouldn’t necessarily have to go cold-turkey. I—I can get my hands on methadone, or naloxone, or something for you. Anything to help ease the crash.”

“No,” Justin said, shaking his head firmly, “_no_, Sam. You’re on probation. I _don’t_ want you risking your shit for me.”

“Those can be addictive, too,” Clay added, “and similarly risky without supervision.”

“And I don’t want to trade one drug for another,” Justin finished. “It stops here.”

Sam was shaking his head. “I still don’t like this one bit.” He looked at Clay. “Do you even know CPR?”

Clay nodded. “Yes, I—do know CPR, but Justin hasn’t been using long enough to make a cardiac event likely.” He glanced at Justin. “Tony’s got us an AED, though.”

Justin chuckled as Sam gave Clay an impressed look. “You mean,” Justin said, “one of those things that shocks people? When they have a heart attack.”

“Yes,” Clay and Sam said in unison.

Sam smirked at Clay. “You _are _cute. _Much _more so now that I know you’ve actually got a decent head on your shoulders.”

“Thank you?” Clay offered, blushing slightly as he shot Justin a look.

“Oh please, honey,” Sam went on, “he did tell me about you two. No need to panic. I hit on everybody I like.”

Justin regarded Clay for a moment before looking back at Sam. “I trust Clay. With my life.”

Sam let out a breath. “Well, I’ll be over near Hillcrest this weekend, anyway. I may plan to check in on you—if you’ll let me. I’d worry a hell of a lot less if I could.”

When Justin looked at Clay, the boy gave a flat smile and raised his palms towards the sky. “Sure, why not? I could probably use the backup, anyway. But, be warned, you might need to go through the window.”

“Ooh, fun,” Sam gushed. “I am well-versed in window protocol.”

He stepped towards Justin for a hug and they embraced. Sam then turned towards Clay.

“I’m a hugger, and I feel that if Justin loves you that much, I should be able to get to hug you, too.”

Chuckling, Clay said, “Okay,” and they hugged.

They parted ways, and Justin and Clay walked back towards the car. Once Clay backed out of the parking spot and they set off, Justin asked, “Should I not have told him?”

Clay looked at him as they came to a stop at the lot’s exit. “If you trust him, I trust him. It’s pretty clear he cares about you, too.”

They pulled out onto the road. When they were back on the highway, Clay went on, “I saw you come out of the building. I was hoping to kind of meet him, anyway, but as you continued to talk, I had a feeling what the topic—might be.” He glanced over at Justin. “I’m glad you have someone to confide in about this. Who—who really knows what it’s like.”

“Yeah,” Justin said. “He’s a good guy.”

They were quiet for a short while as they drove.

“So,” Clay eventually asked, “why did he say he could get his hands on methadone?”

“His mom’s a doctor. And his dad’s an EMT.”

“Ah, okay,” Clay said, nodding. “Makes sense.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “You know, Alex offered the same thing, actually.” He looked at Justin. “I was gonna run it by you.”

Justin met his eyes briefly. “No, I don’t want that stuff.”

“It _could_ make things easier,” Clay insisted, looking back towards the road.

“I don’t care about it being easy,” Justin countered. “I know it won’t be. I just want to do it right, this time.”

“See, there’s really no right way to do this, though.”

Justin looked towards his lap. “I read about those drugs when I was inside. They explained it to me during my exams. Well, the doctors asked me about my history, basically, and it came up. I know most meeting places bar you if you’re still using anything, so—I want to be legit this time. I want to be able to tell the truth when I say I’m clean.”

Clay didn’t say anything in return. For another while, they drove in silence. They soon neared their exit, and after Clay pulled onto the off-ramp, they were back on city streets and crossing into their neighborhood not long afterwards.

When they pulled into their driveway, Clay set the car in park, then paused to sit for a moment when Justin looked at him.

“Did you mean it,” he said, “back there? When you said you trusted me—with your life?”

“Yes.”

Justin could see the boy swallow. Clay forced a laugh. “No pressure, then.”

“It’s the truth.”

Clay met his eyes. After a moment, he said, “You know I’d do anything for you, right?” When Justin felt his breath hitch, the boy went on, “Anything.”

“Same,” Justin offered, feeling his throat prickle. “Anything.”

They regarded each other for another moment longer before Clay turned towards the door and they stepped out of the car. As they approached the house, it was dark inside, and Justin realized they were back pretty late. Clay must have let his parents know not to wait up for them.

They went in and quietly made their way upstairs. After setting their stuff down, they took turns in the bathroom getting ready for bed, and Justin met Clay on the couch after they both changed into their pajamas.

“So,” Clay asked as he sat beside Justin, “how are you feeling?”

Justin rubbed the back of his neck. His craving was a steady hum now in his gut—a persistent nagging that couldn’t be ignored.

“I don’t think I’m gonna make it through the night.”

His boyfriend nodded. “I had a feeling.” He stepped towards the closet and pulled out a small trash can, followed by a larger one, and set them beside Justin’s side of the bed.

“If, if you could—try to aim for one of them, please.”

Justin laughed. “I’ve barely had anything today. I don’t think I’m gonna puke just yet.”

“I know,” Clay said with a grin. “Still thought I should put it out there.”

When the boy held out his hand, Justin stood from the couch and took it as they settled into bed and beneath the covers. After Justin became the little spoon and Clay brought his arms around Justin’s torso, Clay kissed the back of his neck.

“You got this,” he whispered.

“I got this,” Justin echoed.

“I’ll be here every step of the way.”

Justin caressed his boyfriend’s arms and shifted his focus on his own breathing, with synchronizing it with Clay’s, instead of the thrumming in his gut threatening to rend his nerves and his composure.

_Here we go,_ Justin thought. They were finally here, and he was gonna enjoy the calm while it lasted.

In the grand scheme of things, this should be a drop in the bucket compared to the lengths he’d truly go to for the boy. Even though it had caught him off-guard when Clay had said it, it still felt right and easy to say it back—he’d do anything for Clay.

But, this wasn’t just for him. This was for Justin, himself, too. He was no longer going to be a victim of his circumstances. He was no longer going to be controlled by his vices. He was going to be a better person—for everyone in his life who was depending on him. Who mattered to him.

He was gonna be more than his mom, too. He would do what she never could. Maybe one day, if he ever saw her again, she might even be proud of him.

This was gonna be a journey, and this was the first step. What do they say? Every journey begins with a single step? Take the first step, it’s only the first step—and it’ll just be one foot in front of the other from there. Day by day. Step by step.

Justin felt Clay squeeze him gently. “Try to get some rest,” the boy whispered. “Just let your thoughts go.”

Chuckling, Justin said, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m here.”

_Just what I get for thinking too loud,_ Justin thought with a smile. He focused again on Clay’s breathing, and on letting himself go completely into the warmth of his boyfriend’s embrace.

~ ~ ~

The overpass near Brighton Way usually offers reliable shelter from the rain, but it’s getting cold, fast. Justin isn’t sure where he will go, but he knows he needs to get out of the rain. It’s only a light sprinkle now, but a downpour is coming—he can feel it. It might be nice to get a shower of sorts, but come nightfall, the water will be the death of him.

It’s cold. Really fucking cold. He thinks he should have had more time than this, so what the hell happened?

Right, he’s high. Time has dips and curves but is—bearable when he’s high, even if it stops being a continuous line. The cold usually doesn’t get to him as much when he has a good hit, but fuck, it’s _really _cold. He sets his duffle bag down and tries to dig out another sweater—but there’s nothing there. Nothing inside. Fuck, what happened to his shit? He hadn’t traded it for anything—had he?

How could he be sure of anything anymore?

The cold is cutting into his skin. It’s not raining anymore, but he’s wet. He needs to get warm. It’s all fucking crazy. It shouldn’t be this cold, this fast.

Justin comes to the edge of the street, and the sidewalk becomes grass, becomes snow. Becomes Ice. He’s out of time. Fuck—he’s out of time. He is _out. Of fucking. TIME!_

He tries to run—he needs to run—but his legs, his feet, don’t respond. They’re weak, like mush. The ice is slippery. Is that why he can’t run? He’s never been ice skating, never been on ice, but he needs to move. _RUN!_

Cracks are forming on the ice around him. Along him, beside him. Justin needs to run—and he might make it to the edge.

Where is he going? He can see the ocean, but the ice appears endless. The cracks are widening. They will swallow him if he doesn’t _FUCKING RUN!_

Justin moves. He is moving. Somehow—on his mushy legs and feet that don’t work but do. Someone is chasing him. He has to fucking get away. How will he get away?

He won’t get away from the blue frost-bitten hand bursting out of the ice and yanking him down into the deep.

~ ~ ~

A shout. Justin woke with a jolt as spasms rattled his legs and as he clutched frantically at anything to keep from falling through the ice.

“Justin!”

He found Clay beside him as he struggled to regain himself. Gradually, as Justin took control back of his limbs, he realized he was still on the bed, Clay’s bed—not ice—and they were both sitting up as Clay clung to Justin to try to keep him still.

“You’re all right,” Clay assured. “Justin, you’re all right. You’re here. You’re safe.”

Justin struggled to steady his breathing, so he grabbed onto Clay’s arms around him before leaning into the boy, and hoped his boyfriend’s steady presence beside him would be enough of an anchor to stave off the senseless sensation of drowning. Justin hadn’t had a dream like that in months, and maybe never one that had felt that real. The fear set his nerves alight—even though he couldn’t stop shaking.

“I’m so fucking cold,” Justin stuttered.

Clay prompted him to lie back and brought the covers back over them. “It was just a bad dream,” the boy assured.

Realizing his clothes were sticking to him, Justin scoffed, “How can I be so fucking cold and sweating all over?”

Clay slid off of the bed and stepped towards the coffee table. “Your brain is rewiring itself. It’s figuring out how to function again without the drugs.”

The boy returned to the bed with a bottle of water. “Drink a little bit,” he said, offering it to Justin.

Justin gazed at the bottle briefly before sitting up again. He took the bottle and did as he was told, his hand trembling, then set the water on the nightstand. Clay pressed his wrist to Justin’s forehead, which made Justin chuckle.

“Am I running hot?”

“No, thankfully,” Clay replied.

As the boy walked around the bed to get back under the covers, Justin pressed the home button on his phone to check the time: 2:40 AM.

“Fuck,” Justin sighed, lying back against his pillow as Clay settled beside him. “It’s not even three in the fucking morning,” he moaned.

Clay brought him close, and Justin turned into his boyfriend’s embrace as the latter brought the covers over them again. As he continued to shiver, Justin found Clay’s warmth to be an immense help.

“Still later than I was expecting,” the boy remarked.

Justin sighed. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get back to sleep.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Clay reminded. He grabbed his phone. “I was gonna read to you, if that’s okay.”

Justin managed a short laugh. “What?”

“I was gonna read to you—to keep your mind off things. Or give you something to focus on.”

After hesitating for a moment, Justin eventually replied, “Okay.”

Justin shut his eyes as the boy powered on the phone’s screen. When a few seconds passed, Clay began, “Let’s start with Wikipedia’s featured article of the day.” He cleared his throat. “‘Michael Hordern, born October third, nineteen-eleven and died May second, nineteen-ninety-five, was an English stage and film actor best known for his Shakespearean roles, especially King Lear, whom he played on stage in Stratford-upon-Avon in nineteen-sixty-nine and London in nineteen-seventy…’”

Despite everything, Justin found himself smiling into his boyfriend’s shoulder as he held onto Clay. In spite of the chills and in spite of the imagined cold, Clay was like a fireplace all their own, and as Justin listened to him speak, he started to realize yet another thing he loved about the boy—his voice.

It was simply working like fucking magic at the moment, somehow drowning out much of the withdrawal onset’s discomfort. Justin found Clay’s voice to be like music in the silence of the room, and a reprieve from his thoughts of the things to come in the day ahead of them. He didn’t expect Clay to read the whole fucking night, but he tried to savor the moment nonetheless.

By the third article, which was about polar jet streams, Justin uttered, “You don’t have to read me intentionally boring articles.” He yawned. “You can read me interesting articles, too, so you at least get something out of it.”

They shifted onto their sides, with Justin becoming the little spoon once again. “Don’t worry about me,” Clay said. “Believe me—I’m getting plenty out of this.”

Justin smiled. As Clay continued to read aloud, Justin grasped his boyfriend’s free hand, squeezing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight spoilers for season 3 for THAT moment that set clustin lovers' hearts alight, I suppose! I was really trying to save it, but, I just couldn't. A common theme in this series will be this: things between Clay and Justin happy MUCH earlier than in canon. It just makes sense to me...


	17. Almost Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin discovers more of Clay's talents.

Consciousness returned to Justin like a snap and with a sharp intake of breath. As he noticed the brightness of the room—then the throbbing inside his skull, and the rapidly worsening aching in his muscles as he tried to move—Justin was astonished at how some habits could just die hard. Even in his withdrawal, he still couldn’t help but wake with the sun.

Yeah, he felt like death. Everything hurt. He was ready to burst into tears, but the thing that stopped him was the sight of Clay beside him. The boy was on his stomach, facing towards Justin, and his breathing still rose and fell in that steady pattern of slumber. God, he was so beautiful. On second thought—Justin could very well still burst into tears because of it all.

Instead, he picked up Clay’s phone between them. As he suspected, Justin found it to be just before their alarm. Two minutes, in fact. He made quick work of that, shutting off the alarm, before slowly turning—his soreness spiking with the effort—to do the same to his own phone. Fuck, it hurt to move, and he wanted nothing more than to lie in bed and stare at Clay all day, but he knew the boy had a plan, and he wasn’t going to mess that up. He was just going to take a few more moments to savor the sight of his unbelievably beautiful boyfriend and the sound of his heavenly, steady breaths.

Eventually, Justin reached over and began to caress Clay’s cheek. After a moment, the boy stirred and inhaled sharply before shifting onto his side and letting out a long, low groan.

“Sorry,” Justin offered, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat, or tried to.

“For what?” Clay croaked. He still had his eyes shut.

“For waking you.”

His boyfriend inhaled another deep breath and groaned again as he stretched, then said, “What do you mean? It’s time, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.”

Clay finally opened his eyes and reached towards his bed stand, only to look back at Justin and see that his phone was between them. As he picked it up, Justin said, “I turned off the alarm before it went off.”

The boy smiled at Justin. “You still managed to wake up before our alarms? Does that mean you’re feeling okay?”

Justin whined as he shook his head into his pillow. “No,” he moaned, shutting his eyes, “I feel like shit.”

He felt Clay press his wrist to his forehead. “What are you feeling?” the boy asked.

Sighing, Justin replied, “I’m sore. Everywhere. My head hurts.”

As he felt the bed shift, Justin opened his eyes to see Clay reach over him for the bottle of water on the nightstand. He prompted Justin to sit up. “Here,” he said, offering the bottle to Justin, “drink.”

With another whine, Justin complied, even though it hurt to do pretty much anything. Clay got out of the bed while Justin managed a few gulps, then gently prompted Justin to stand before leading him to the couch.

“All right,” Clay began, “it’s showtime. Not—not that I think you really need to do much acting to pull this off, I mean.”

Justin managed a chuckle before letting himself plop onto the couch. “What, Clay? You never tried faking sick from school before?”

“No,” the boy answered meekly. He began digging through the closet. “We just—you just need to help me not freak my mom out _too _much. It’s going to be a fine line.”

Clay returned to the couch with blankets and a pillow and helped tuck Justin in. “Are you still feeling chills?” the boy asked.

“Not right now.”

Once Justin was settled on the couch, Clay knelt down and kissed his forehead. “I’ll be back, okay?”

“Okay.”

Justin watched his boyfriend leave the room before shutting his eyes, although it did little to alleviate his headache. He waited for Clay to return, presumably with Lainie in tow to witness Justin’s ailments for herself. In the utter quiet of the room, he could still hear shuffling through the door and down the hallway, and possibly even downstairs, too. The Jensens were all obviously awake.

He heard Clay get ready in the bathroom before going downstairs, and before long, there were loudening footsteps that preceded a hushed conversation just outside the door.

“Mom, he’s still asleep, I’m pretty sure. He was up really early in the morning.”

_“Did_ he throw up, or not?”

“He said he _almost _threw up.”

“But you’re feeling something, too?”

A sigh. “Yeah, a little, but not as bad as him.”

“This could be serious, Clay.”

“Mom!”

The door opened and Justin quickly wiped the smile from his face; he’d been amused at how Lainie was reacting just as Clay had said. Justin grunted as they stepped into the room. Lainie knelt beside the couch.

“Justin?”

As he opened his eyes, Lainie reached to caress his cheek, and that feeling of wanting to burst into tears returned tenfold. “Sweetheart,” she said, “what’s wrong?”

Justin moaned. “I think I ate something bad,” he croaked.

“We stopped and got smoothies at a gas station after the meeting last night,” Clay interjected. “That could’ve been it.”

Lainie looked back at Justin and pressed her wrist to his forehead. “You’re not running a fever, at least, so it’s not likely infectious.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s just food poisoning,” Justin uttered. “I’ll be okay, I just—I need the day.”

Lainie stood as Clay said, “I’m a little queasy, too, but I didn’t have as much as he did. I can look after him.”

Justin saw them step away towards the door, so he shut his eyes once more. Lainie insisted quietly, “His immune system might not be as strong as it used to be—considering everything he’s been through. If he’s ill enough to miss school, I’d rather we take him to be checked, just in case.”

“They’re just gonna give him fluids, electrolytes, and advise bed rest—nothing that I can’t do for him here, or that’s worth lugging him out of bed for. Mom, believe me—I’ve got this, please. And, if I end up throwing up, too, it’s probably better I’m here than at school.”

Lainie was quiet for a moment. “You know you don’t have to do this all on your own, right?”

A pause. “Ye—yeah, I, I know! Mom, _come on, _this isn’t like that!”

“I know, I know, but—”

“He’s just sick, that’s all!”

“Okay, I—I was just saying.”

“Mom, you’re gonna be late. Just—let me take care of him. I will call you—if anything happens. But we’ll be fine. Please.”

“Okay, okay.”

As he heard footsteps come towards him, Justin opened his eyes to see Lainie kneel beside him once more. “I’ll be home early to check in on you, all right? I’ll bring soup, which should be easy on the stomach.”

“Okay,” Justin whispered. “Thank you.”

She kissed his hair and rubbed his arm. “Feel better, okay, sweetheart?”

“I’ll try,” Justin offered, and they smiled at each other before Lainie stood and Clay followed her out of the room. He heard her tell Clay she would leave numbers and emergency contacts downstairs, and seemingly who else to call if certain things were to happen. At that point, the dam broke, the floodgates opened, and Justin couldn’t help it as he began sobbing silently into his pillow.

When Clay returned, he knelt quickly beside the couch and cooed, “Hey, hey! What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Justin insisted, shaking his head, but was unable to stem the tears. “Nothing, I swear…”

Clay rubbed his arm. “It’s okay, really. It’s okay.”

“I’m just—I’m not used to this,” Justin went on, rubbing his eyes.

The boy was quiet for a second. “Well, now you see where I get it from.”

Justin laughed.

~ ~ ~

“Let me get you a little bit of breakfast.”

Clay had gone downstairs and returned a short while later with a small bowl of oatmeal, plate of toast, and a glass of water. As Justin watched the boy set them down on the coffee table, he asked, “Sure you’re not worried about me just throwing it all up again?”

“Believe me,” Clay replied, “I’ve gotten used to cleaning up your messes.” He smirked at Justin.

Justin pouted. “I’m not that messy, am I?”

His boyfriend merely chuckled. “Come on, you need to get at least a little bit of energy in you. Try the oatmeal, at least.”

Justin whined. “Will you spoon feed it to me?”

“Oh my god,” Clay huffed, then laughed. “Seriously?”

Laughing with him briefly, Justin sat up with a groan. “Kidding, kidding.” As Justin took the oatmeal, Clay sat on the side chair and seemed to watch him eat. The oatmeal was bland, clearly sugar-free, but still had a hint of sweetness in it.

“Is this honey?” Justin asked.

“Yeah.”

Justin froze and gaped at Clay. “I’m allergic to honey.”

The look his boyfriend gave him made Justin crack near instantly. Justin burst out laughing at how the color had immediately drained from Clay’s face.

“Oh my god, you ass!”

As Justin laughed, he swallowed the wrong way and started coughing, but still couldn’t stop laughing. “Holy shit,” Justin wheezed, “your face!” He tried to clear his throat in between coughs and laughs.

Clay was shaking his head. “Jesus Christ,” he sighed, “is this what you’re gonna do to me for the next forty-eight hours?”

“Maybe,” Justin chirped with a grin.

The boy grinned at him. “Well, I’m glad you’ve at least got enough energy to be dick. Or you’re just loopy.” He pushed the glass of water towards him. “Drink.”

Justin obliged him, and took a bite of the toast as well, which was plain. Clearly, his boyfriend _was _concerned about him keeping it all down.

“Seriously, though,” Clay went on, “_are _you allergic to anything?”

“No,” Justin answered, shaking his head, “not that I know of, anyway. Food-wise.”

Clay regarded him for a moment. “What’s your favorite color?”

Justin snorted a brief laugh. “I don’t think I have a favorite color.”

The boy gave him a look. _“Seriously?_ You don’t have a favorite color?”

Shrugging, Justin offered, “Green, I guess. Or, actually—maybe orange. I think I like orange.”

Clay smirked at him. “Well, as I’ve never seen you wear or own anything orange, I’m gonna bank on green as your preference.” When Justin chuckled, Clay went on, “Seriously, though, I feel like—I should know you better than, than I actually do.”

Sighing, Justin countered, “You _know _me, Clay.”

“Well, yeah, but—this week, I’ve learned so many _new _things about you, it’s made me realize there’s still a lot about you I don’t—actually know.”

Justin swallowed without any food in his mouth. “I’m not really in the mood for twenty questions right now.”

“Okay, okay,” Clay said gently, “I won’t badger you with inane questions right now—_if_ you can guess what _my_ favorite color is.”

“Blue.”

Clay glanced over at the bed, at his blue covers, then at his blue drapes, before looking back at Justin, who smiled. “Okay,” the boy said, “that’s not fair.” He spread his hands. “You can see my entire room and deduce most all of the basic details about me.”

Justin looked around the room before taking another bite of oatmeal. “Are all these drawings you? I mean, by you?”

The boy eyed the walls briefly with him. “No, not all of them. Some of them are Skye’s. She helped me—redecorate, I suppose.”

“Are you good at everything?” Justin asked with a smile.

Scoffing, Clay replied, “No, I am not good at everything.”

Justin eyed the guitar case propped up beside the closet door. Gesturing towards it, he went on, “You play?”

Slowly, his boyfriend nodded. “I—I dabble, really.”

Justin widened his smile into a grin. “Sing me a song.”

“Sing you a song,” Clay droned. “What makes you think I can sing?”

“Come on,” Justin pressed, “I _know _you can sing, and I know you can play. Sing me your favorite song!”

The boy hesitated. “I’ve—I’ve never played anything for anyone before.”

Justin set his oatmeal on the table and fell back against the couch with a dramatic whine. “I’m in so much pain!” he moaned theatrically, and flamboyantly drew the covers back over himself. “The only thing that will make me feel better is your sweet serenading soothing my aching old bones!”

His boyfriend huffed and stood up. “Okay, okay, Jesus.” After retrieving the guitar, Clay brought it over to the desk and sat before opening his laptop. After a few swipes, clicks, and a bit of typing, the boy opened the case and pulled out the guitar. He made the computer play a sound before strumming the guitar strings, and made a face at how they sounded.

“Has it been a while?” Justin asked.

“Yes,” Clay replied, “it’s woefully out of tune.”

Justin watched and listened to the boy pluck individual and pairs of strings as he turned the pegs at the head of the guitar, tuning it. He was impressed at how Clay seemed to be able to do it all by ear, and it all sounded right to Justin by the time he was done. His boyfriend then strummed a few chords, seemingly in improvisation, as his left hand quickly traversed up and down the neck of the guitar and as his fingers gracefully danced in different formations across the strings.

Justin smiled—Clay was warming up.

“I guess,” the boy began, “I guess I’ll play you a song that’s stuck with me for a really long time. I, I don’t know if I would necessarily call it my _favorite_ song, but it does for me what a favorite song should do, I suppose.”

Clay strummed a gentle chord—it was immediately darker, a sharp contrast to the brighter cords he’d warmed up with—followed by a gentle, simple, and solemn melody, which he repeated. It reminded Justin of a piano.

_“Your fingertips across my skin_  
_The palm trees swaying in the wind_  
_Images…”_

Clay’s voice was low, quiet, and soothing as he sweetly plucked the guitar in support of his words. _Holy shit_, Justin thought,_ he can really sing. _The boy seemed to pay Justin no attention—and became fully devoted to the performance at hand. Justin sat up, utterly rapt.

_“You sang me Spanish lullabies_  
_The sweetest sadness in your eyes_  
_Clever trick…”_

Clay grew louder with the next verse, but only just so.

_“Well, I’d never wanna see you unhappy_  
_I thought you’d want the same_  
_For me…”_

After a dramatic pause, Clay gave another gentle strum of the guitar, and Justin quickly realized they’d come to the chorus.

_“Goodbye, my almost lover_  
_Goodbye, my hopeless dream_  
_I’m trying not to think about you_  
_Can’t you just let me be?_

_“So long my luckless romance_  
_My back is turned on you_  
_Should’ve known you’d bring me heartache_  
_Almost lovers always do…”_

Justin felt his throat prickling. He barely wanted to breathe, even. All he wanted to hear was Clay, who let the last chord fade away completely—before starting again.

_“We walked along a crowded street_  
_You took my hand and danced with me_  
_Images…_

_“And when you left, you kissed my lips_  
_You told me you would never, never forget_  
_These images… No…_

_“Well, I’d never wanna see you unhappy_  
_I thought you’d want the same_  
_For me…_

_“Goodbye, my almost lover_  
_Goodbye, my hopeless dream_  
_I’m trying not to think about you_  
_Can’t you just let me be?_

_“So long, my luckless romance_  
_My back is turned on you_  
_Should’ve known you’d bring me heartache_  
_Almost lovers always do…”_

Clay grew louder, more passionate, and Justin felt chills swallow him as the boy’s strumming likewise intensified—maintaining their solemn, emphatic pace, but evocatively breaking their rhythm every now and then to mirror his words.

_“I cannot go to the ocean_  
_I cannot drive the streets at night_  
_I cannot wake up in the morning_  
_Without you on my mind._

_“But so you’re gone and I’m haunted_  
_And I’ll bet you are just—fine._

_“Did I make it that_  
_Easy to walk right in and out_  
_Of my life?”_

Clay let the chord ring, then began the chorus again, quietly, one last time.

_“Goodbye, my almost lover_  
_Goodbye, my hopeless dream_  
_I’m trying not to think about you_  
_And can’t you just let me be?_

_“So long, my luckless romance_  
_My back is turned on you_  
_Should’ve known you’d bring me heartache_  
_Almost lovers always—do.”_

When Clay finished, he hung his head, and Justin still could barely breathe. After a moment, Justin sniffled, and uttered, “Oh my God.” His boyfriend looked up at him, and smiled sheepishly. “That was incredible,” Justin went on.

When he felt a tear escape his eye, Justin threw himself back against the couch. “But—oh my god!” he exclaimed with a prolonged moan. “Why would you sing me the saddest and most depressing song _ever _to make me feel better!”

Clay burst out with a laugh. “Okay, okay, okay,” he huffed, turning back to his computer. He typed and clicked away again for a short while. Then, when he seemed to find what he was looking for, started fingering and humming quietly to himself.

After the boy seemed to get a feel of what he was about to perform, he turned back towards Justin. “All right,” Clay said, “this is probably gonna be more your speed.”

With the very first strum, which was once again bright, Justin couldn’t help sitting up again and grinning like an idiot as Clay seemed to indulge him this time with the performance—making eye contact and giving him knowing looks as he sang.

_“I’ve been staring_  
_At the edge of the water_  
_Long as I can remember_  
_Never really knowing why._

_“I wish I could_  
_Be the perfect daughter_  
_But I come back to the water_  
_No matter how hard I try._

_“Every turn I take_  
_Every trail I track_  
_Every path I make_  
_Every road leads back_

_“To the place I know_  
_Where I cannot go_  
_Where I long to be…”_

Justin couldn’t stop grinning as Clay smiled along with him, picking up his strumming as he began the chorus.

_“See the line_  
_Where the sky_  
_Meets the sea?_  
_It calls me!_

_“And no one knows_  
_How far it goes!_

_“If the wind_  
_In my sail_  
_On the sea_  
_Stays behind me_

_“One day I’ll know_  
_If I go there’s just _  
_No telling how far I’ll go…”_

Justin could only laugh as Clay seemed to get more into it on the second verse, and put on even more of a show as he reached the chorus a second time.

_“See the light_  
_As it shines_  
_On the sea?_  
_It’s blinding!_

_“But no one knows_  
_How deep it goes!_

_“And it seems like_  
_It’s calling out to me_  
_So come find me_  
_And let me know_

_“What’s beyond that line?_  
_Will I cross that line?”_

Justin was amazed that Clay could sing even higher as he went all out with energetic strums to finish out the song.

_“See the line_  
_Where the sky_  
_Meets the sea?_  
_It calls me!_

_“And no one knows_  
_How far it goes._

_“If the wind_  
_In my sail_  
_On the sea_  
_Stays behind me_

_“One day I’ll know_  
_How far I’ll go!”_

Clay might have been going all out for camp, but Justin couldn’t help clapping and grinning by the end of it as his boyfriend smirked back at him.

“Happy now?” the boy asked.

“Yes,” Justin answered, “oh my God.” He cleared his throat. “Seriously—Clay, you can sing.”

His boyfriend shrugged. “I _sing_, but it doesn’t mean I _can _sing.”

“Clay,” Justin repeated, “you can sing.” He inhaled deeply. “Shit.” He forced a laugh. “That first song, holy shit…”

The boy set the guitar back down in its case. “Yeah, I know, I know—probably not the best song choice for the occasion.”

“No,” Justin insisted, “that—you were amazing. Seriously—amazing. I think it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard, or seen, really, in my whole life. You’re so fucking talented.”

Clay started to blush. “Thank you,” he said, shutting the guitar case and closing the latches.

“You’re good at everything—I know it now, for sure.” Justin grinned. “My boyfriend’s a fucking artist.”

The boy grinned, and only seemed to redden further. “I appreciate it.”

Justin took a sip of water, then lay back against the couch. “Why that song?”

Clay patted his knees, then stood. “Well, given your love of Disney songs—”

“You know what I mean!” Justin interrupted, grinning.

The boy sat back at the side chair. “Well,” he began, shrugging, “I first heard it shortly after my dog died. Now, this was years ago—”

“Yeah, your dad, uh, told me a little about that.”

Clay nodded. “Right.”

“She got sick?” Justin asked.

The boy nodded again. “Yeah. Cancer, so, we—had to put her down. I guess, if you look at it, it doesn’t really make sense, given the lyrics of the song, but when I first heard it—it really spoke to me in a way that helped me, I guess, make sense of everything that I was feeling at the time. And it’s stuck with me, all these years.”

Justin offered a sympathetic smile. “A deep love, gone too soon.”

Clay gave a gentle laugh. “Wise beyond your years, Justin Foley.”

“And amazing in every way possible, Clay Jensen.”

They grinned at each other.

“Oh,” Justin went on, “I was talking about me.”

The boy burst out laughing. “Humble, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'LL ADMIT that I did not know Dylan Minnette was a musician at first when I fell upon 13RW, so FYI, if you did not know, Dylan is in a band (Wallows) and the songs referenced are Almost Lover by A Fine Frenzy and of course How Far I'll Go from Moana. :)


	18. Friday Fumble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin progresses in his detox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An interlude, really, in advance of the next two major chapters...

After a while, Justin managed to finish the rest of his breakfast with small bites and cautious spoonfuls. Clay offered to put on a movie, to which Justin countered with _something smart_ instead.

“What,” the boy asked with a smirk, “like, National Geographic, or the History channel?”

“Yeah,” Justin replied, shrugging. “Anything I could vaguely pay attention to and still possibly learn something.”

Clay stood and walked to the TV on the shelf across the bed, then angled it towards them. “You know, you don’t have to do this just for my benefit.”

“What can I say?” Justin said, groaning as he sat up and lay back towards the other side of the couch. “You’re rubbing off on me.”

After setting the TV, Clay sat at his desk and worked on his laptop. Justin tried to focus on the lions and wildebeest evading each other across the plains, and the thoughtful narrator dramatizing the action. As he watched, his migraine improved, but his muscles aches lingered. As the morning progressed, Justin felt the chills begin to return, and after feeling comfortably sated, his stomach started to cramp.

Justin looked over at the bed, and the two pails still beside it. _Oh no_.

Before he could even think to ask Clay for the buckets—panic struck Justin, and he tossed the sheets off himself before leaping from the couch to sprint for the bathroom. He barely made it in time to the toilet before his insides were heaving his oh-so modest breakfast up from whence it came.

“Fuck,” Justin sighed, flushing the toilet and spitting bile into the bowl. He’d barely had anything to eat, and yet he still couldn’t keep it down. What the fuck?

He tried to steady himself—to not heave again—but no sooner had he thought he’d gotten a grip did the nausea strike him once more and he was blowing chunks into the bowl. Well, just barely chunks. Most of it had come up on the first go.

Justin clung to the bowl, waiting for the nausea to pass.

“Are you okay?”

As he gripped the toilet, Justin glanced at Clay. “I’m sorry,” he croaked, then flushed the toilet again as it finished running.

“What—are you apologizing to me for?” the boy asked. “I should be the one to say sorry—for not keeping the bucket by you. I’m just glad you made it to the bathroom in time.”

Justin coughed and managed a partial grin. “Only ‘cause I knew you’d never forgive me if I threw up on you again.”

Clay sat beside him on the floor. “Not true,” he offered.

Feeling the inklings of another bout of nausea prickle his core, Justin held still for a moment. When it passed, he managed another look towards Clay.

“What are you doing?” Justin asked.

“What you mean?”

“I don’t want you to see me like this.”

He felt the boy rub his back. “Well, _a,_” Clay countered, “I’ve already seen you like this, and, _b,_ I meant it when I said I was gonna be here for you every step of the way.”

Justin gave a small smile. “You gonna hold my hair back, Jensen?”

Clay squeezed his shoulder. “If I have to.”

Justin chuckled, then groaned. “Damn, that breakfast was like—the easiest breakfast ever. And I still couldn’t keep it down.”

“Hey, don’t worry about that,” his boyfriend assured. “If anything, this might be a good sign. You’re slightly ahead of schedule, at least.”

Meeting Clay’s gaze, Justin grunted, “Huh?”

“You might be detoxing faster than before—based on your symptoms so far, at least. Which, might make sense, I guess. Oxy works faster than heroin, so it leaves the body faster.”

Justin gave a quick laugh. “You’ve really done your homework this time, haven’t you?”

Clay shook his head. “That’s what makes it riskier this time, too.” He gave Justin’s shoulder another squeeze. “So—please tell me what you’re feeling. It’ll be the only way I can gauge how we’re doing.”

Nodding quickly, Justin said, “I will. I’m sorry—this just hit me so fast—”

“I know,” Clay interrupted, “I know. Don’t apologize. It’s okay.”

They sat together a little while longer, waiting for the nausea to pass. Once Justin felt steady enough, Clay helped him back towards the room.

“You want the bed?”

Justin shook his head. “No, I—I want to stay on the couch.”

Clay didn’t argue with him. After helping him get settled again, he pulled a bottle of Gatorade from the closet and offered it to Justin.

“Here, drink a little of this.” When Justin obeyed, the boy went on, “I think you should try to rest for a bit. Save your energy. You’ve still got a ways to go.”

Justin drank a little more before handing the bottle back to Clay and settling back into his pillow. His boyfriend knelt beside him. “You got this,” he said, then kissed his forehead.

Glancing towards the door, Justin spotted Hannah leaning against it, a slight smile nudging her cheeks.

~ ~ ~

“How’s our sleeping beauty?”

Justin felt himself drift in and out of consciousness for some time before Tony’s voice disturbed the silence. He pretended not to hear them as they spoke.

“Relatively okay, so far,” Clay said. “Did you bring it?”

After the sound of a zipper, a plasticky thud hit the floor.

“Do you even know how to use this thing?”

“I’ve read up on it.”

Tony chuckled. “I see we are taking no chances this time.”

“No, we’re not.”

Tony let out a sigh. “I’m still fucking pissed we’re going through this again.”

Justin let out a groan as he began to stretch. It took a second for his vision to focus as he looked over at Tony and Clay by the desk.

“Is school over already?” Justin asked.

“No,” Clay replied, “it’s only lunchtime.”

Justin whined. “Fuck.”

“Sorry to disturb your beauty sleep, princess,” Tony quipped.

“Fuck off,” Justin spat.

Tony laughed. “Is he at that stage already?”

“I heard you earlier,” Justin went on. “The hell did you bring?”

“Nothing,” Clay cut in, shooting Tony a brief look, which only seemed to amuse him further. “Just a precaution, that’s all.”

“Clay asked me to procure an AED.”

“Oh, that thing?”

“Wait, you told him?” Tony glanced at Clay. “I thought you were trying to keep that under wraps.”

The boy shrugged. “I was, but—I ended up spilling the beans last night at the meeting. I was trying not to remind him.”

Justin sat up slowly and examined the small gray box on the floor. “You think I could really have a heart attack?”

“No!” the boy exclaimed, sliding the box beneath the coffee table. “It’s more for me than for you, really.”

“You think I’m gonna give _you _a heart attack?”

“Justin,” Tony said, “think of it—as insurance.”

Sighing, Justin let out, “Shit.”

Clay sat beside him on the couch. “How are you feeling?”

Justin gazed at the table and shook his head slightly. “A little dizzy, I guess. Cold. I’m still sore. And—a little hungry.”

The boy grabbed the Gatorade from the table and handed it to Justin. “Here, drink. Let’s try some crackers—see if that agrees with you.”

Tony had turned away from them and was shaking his head. He appeared to be laughing to himself.

“What?” Justin demanded.

“Look, this better be the last fucking time,” Tony scoffed. He turned and looked back at Justin. “I _will _break your legs next time if you fall off the fucking wagon again.”

“Tony.”

“Noted,” Justin said.

Padilla picked up his book bag and made for the door. “I gotta get back,” he said. “Text me if anything goes wrong.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Clay called as Tony shut the door behind him. The boy looked back towards Justin. “Sorry.”

Justin forced a chuckle. “He’s not wrong. I deserve it.” He managed a smile. “Don’t go too soft on me yet, Jensen.”

Clay squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll try,” he said, smiling back.

~ ~ ~

Justin spent some time nibbling on saltines while Clay went downstairs to tend to some laundry. Though his stomach seemed to cooperate, Justin felt the chills and soreness persist. He tried to stop shivering as he clutched and curled into the covers on top of the couch, but even with the extra blanket, nothing seemed to help. Justin shut his eyes, and tried desperately to rid a forbidden thought from his mind.

He really, _really_ wanted a hit.

No, _no, _this was _not _what he was here for. It was early, still—too early to be thinking such defeatist thoughts. He could manage being on his own for a short while—without Clay being in the room. Couldn’t he?

Thankfully, the door opened, and Justin watched Clay re-enter to the room with a basket of fresh laundry. It was the second load, Justin was pretty certain. Clearly, his boyfriend could multitask. He caught Justin’s gaze as he walked to the closet with a few towels in hand.

“You okay?” he asked as Justin looked away.

“I’m cold,” Justin uttered.

Clay set the towels in the closet before stepping over to the couch. He prompted Justin to sit up and said, “Come on.”

Justin stood from the couch, the covers still wrapped around his shoulders, and followed Clay over to the bed, who drew the sheets up from the bed and settled in before Justin crawled in beside him. After Clay worked all the sheets and blankets back over them, Justin held onto the boy, who likewise wrapped his arms around Justin in return.

As Justin lay his head across Clay’s chest, the boy said, “You’re shivering.”

“Sorry.”

His boyfriend kissed his head. “It’s okay.”

It was almost divine how Clay felt so spectacularly warm against him. Justin wanted to cry. “You feel so good,” he uttered.

Clay rubbed his back. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

“You able to finish some of those crackers, at least?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Justin let out a long breath. “Let, let me know—if you get too hot.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m okay.”

They lay in bed for a while, holding each other. As much as Justin might have wanted a hit right then, he realized—he wanted Clay even more. And that meant more than anything. Way more than another fucking hit.

~ ~ ~

“Justin.”

A whine, then a groan. It took a moment for Justin to realize—it was actually he, himself, who was making those noises. Clay gave a brief laugh.

“Justin, my mom’s home.”

Letting out another whine, Justin grunted, “So?”

Clay nudged him gently and chuckled. “So, we’re gonna get caught!”

Justin whined again. “No more cuddle time?”

“No, I’m sorry,” Clay cooed. “Come on.”

Reluctantly, Justin let go of the boy and gradually stood from the bed. As Clay gathered the sheets, Justin hobbled back over to the couch and plopped himself down across the cushions. His boyfriend helped him get settled in once more before taking a seat at the desk just as there was a knock on the door.

“Justin? Clay?” Lainie.

“It’s open,” Clay called.

Justin sat up slowly as the door opened and Lainie stepped into the room. As much as he hated admitting it, the act alone of walking across the room had taken a lot out of Justin.

“Hi boys,” Clay’s mom greeted. She walked over to Justin. “Sweetheart,” she went on, “how are you feeling? I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No,” Justin replied, shaking his head. “I’m okay.”

As she sat beside Justin, Clay said, “He’s been resting most of the day.”

Lainie pressed her wrist to Justin’s forehead, then made a disapproving sound. “You’re warm.”

Justin cleared his throat. “I feel okay,” he lied. The chills weren’t letting up.

Pursing her lips, Lainie said, “We should really get you looked at.”

“Mom,” Clay began.

Justin looked away, and brought his knees towards his chest. The way she was looking at him—he could start crying at any moment. He wrapped his arms around his knees and shook his head. “I really, really don’t wanna go to a hospital.”

“Mom, please,” Clay went on, “we really, _really _don’t need to blow this out of proportions.”

Lainie let out a quick breath. “All right, all right.” She stood and looked towards Justin. “I didn’t mean to put any pressure on you. I’ll get some soup ready downstairs. Do you feel up to that?”

When Justin nodded, Clay stood up as well. “I’ll help you,” he said, and followed his mom out of the room. As they left the door open, Justin heard a little of their conversation as they went downstairs.

“Did he have anything to eat today?”

“Yes, a little bit of breakfast, but—he didn’t end up keeping it down.”

Justin lay back against the couch and brought the sheets back over himself. With the chills and the aches and the overall shittiness that he felt, Justin could barely find the strength to censor himself and hoped that Lainie hadn’t seen his eyes welling.

It was just—having her fuss over him, and being so concerned—it poked at yet another ball of entangled feelings Justin tried to keep boxed up in the corner. High on the shelf. Or deep in the closet. Clay was different; having someone, a mother, show so much care for his well being just—wasn’t something he was used to.

And, shit, there he went again, crying into his pillow. Justin was sorely tempted to escape out of the window again. Having so many people care for him—was exhausting.

_No_. Of course, that wasn’t what he really wanted. What the hell was wrong with him? Luckily, Justin had a while to get a grip, for by the time he heard footsteps approaching the room again, he’d managed to stop crying and to clear his head of most of the irrational thoughts.

Justin sat up to see Clay walk in with a bowl of soup over a plate of bread and a spoon. “Hey,” Justin greeted.

“It’s okay if you’re not that hungry right now,” Clay said, setting the soup on the table before Justin. “We’ve got plenty more for later.”

“Thank you,” Justin uttered, reaching for the spoon. He could barely smell anything, but was able to get a whiff of the soup. It was amazing.

Justin grinned at Clay as he sat at the side chair. “Is this chicken soup?”

“Yes, it is,” the boy confirmed, grinning back at him.

“Does this stuff really work?”

Clay shrugged. “Well, I guess we’ll see.” As Justin stirred the soup, its scent even tackling some of his chills, Clay went on, “I know my mom can be—overbearing, but—she means well.”

Justin smiled. “I know.”

“She also, um, isn’t intentionally trying to upset you. It’s just hard for her to turn it off, sometimes. Her words, not mine.”

Justin managed a laugh. “She doesn’t need to apologize. I get it, really.”

Clay shook his head. “And she gets it too, really. Obviously, we’re—we’re not telling her the real reason, but…” He tossed up his hands. “Okay, I’m just rambling.” He stood up from the chair. “Try the soup. It should help.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Justin said as the boy made for the door.

Coming to a stop, Clay replied, “Oh, I know. I’m just—gonna get some soup for myself.”

Justin burst out with a laugh. “Oh, right.” Clay laughed with him.

After the boy stepped out of the room, Justin brought the plate in his lap and finally sampled the soup—and it tasted as good as its scent had preluded. Better, really. It warmed Justin to his core and even helped clear up his sinuses a little.

When Clay returned to the room, Justin gave another laugh. “This is fucking amazing.”

His boyfriend smiled at him. “Good, I’m glad you like it.”

After taking a seat back in the side chair, Clay ate his soup with Justin and together they sat in mostly companionable silence.

“Your mom’s not used to apologizing, is she?” Justin remarked.

“No—no she is not.” Clay smirked. “Clearly, you’re a good influence on her.”

“Maybe it’s a lawyer thing?” Justin offered. “Always having to argue and be right all the time?”

“Yeah, maybe so.”

They continued to sit, sipping their soup.


	19. molly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin comes clean to Clay once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up for moments of despairing thoughts.

When dusk approached, and as the evening fell, Justin finished his soup and most of the bread. As Clay cleaned up, Justin realized that they’d both been cooped up in the room for almost the entire day. Managing to rise from the couch, Justin found a slight reprieve from the aches and chills and went to the bathroom to relieve himself.

Figuring a warm shower might help, he undressed and chanced stepping into the shower after getting the water to just the right temperature—and found the steady stream of warmth pulsating down his body to be almost divine.

Shortly after Justin started showering, there was a rap at the door. “Justin,” Clay called, “are you showering?”

_What the fuck else would I be doing? _Justin called back, “Yeah!”

“Don’t run the water too hot! If you’re running a fever, it—it won’t help.”

“Okay!” Justin spat. _Fucking hell. _It came out more harshly than he’d intended, but—could he not catch a fucking break?

Having already shampooed, Justin cut his shower short after a perfunctory lather and rinse with body wash. He toweled himself off and wrapped it around himself before grabbing his clothes and coming back to the room to find Clay remaking the bed.

“Sorry,” Justin grunted, “didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to shower.”

Clay said nothing for a moment. “It’s—I was gonna draw you a bath, actually.”

Justin pulled fresh underwear from the closet. “Well, it’s fine, now. I don’t need a fucking bath.”

As he turned away from Clay, Justin let out a quiet sigh as he slid on a shirt and stepped out of the room again to return the wet towel to the bathroom. Why was Justin feeling so irritable, still, despite his aches relenting? When he started back for the room again, Justin felt the warmth from the shower and the soup fading quickly, and he realized, yeah—it was all because he couldn’t get another fucking hit.

Justin found Clay at the closet when he returned. “Jess is texting you,” the boy said simply, not making eye contact.

_Shit. _Justin walked towards the bed stand for his phone. “What do I say?”

He looked over at Clay, who met his eyes and gave a flat smile before shrugging. “Whatever—feels right.”

After the boy took a towel from the closet and left the room, leaving the door open, Justin picked up his phone. When he woke it, there was nothing on the screen. He realized it was Clay’s, then looked towards the desk, then the coffee table—where he found his phone, for real.

Had Clay moved it? With how fogged-up his head was, there was no way to be sure. Justin grabbed his phone to see Jess’ message: _missed you today. u ok?_

Justin sat at the couch and pondered what to say. Had Clay told her anything? As he opened the thread to respond, he found three dots, which quickly answered his question: _clay told me u both weren’t feeling well_

_Yeah,_ Justin replied, _I had something that didn’t agree with me. _It seemed to line up enough with the story Clay appeared to be sticking with while still being close enough to the truth. In a way.

After three more dots, _feel better soon, _with a string of red heart emoji. Justin set his phone down on the coffee table as another wave of nausea hit him. _Dear God, not again._ Thankfully, it passed, but—fuck, lying to Jess wasn’t helping his nerves. While the nausea had passed, it left behind a heavy heat in his stomach that began to rise into his chest. He couldn’t tell if the tingles across his skin were warm, or cold.

Hearing footsteps approach, Justin looked up to see Matt come to a stop in the doorway. “Hey kiddo,” he greeted, waving his palms, “I swear, I’m not here to pester you. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Justin managed a smile. “I’ve been better, but I’m okay, really. The soup helped.”

“Ah, yes. There’s something quite extraordinary about the ordinary power of chicken-noodle soup.” Clay’s dad crossed his arms and looked over towards the bed. “You know,” he went on, “I’m pretty sure I can convince Clay to let you have the bed—just this once.”

Justin laughed. “That’s okay. I’m—I’ve gotten pretty used to the couch by now.”

“Well, if you change your mind, Lainie and I are not above invoking parental authority on your behalf.” He smiled and turned towards the door. “Night, Justin.”

Grinning, Justin echoed, “G’night.”

After settling back across the couch, he began browsing on his phone for anything he might have missed during the day to distract himself from the new discomfort he was feeling. Since there wasn’t much going on, Justin set his phone back on the table right as Clay returned to the room.

“You’re smiling again,” the boy remarked, a towel wrapped around his waist as he shut the door. “I miss something?”

“No,” Justin replied, “not really. Your dad came by and offered to make you give me the bed.” He grinned.

Clay laughed. “Oh, right.” He pulled a shirt and pajamas from the closet. “Well, do you want the bed by yourself?”

“No, I’m—I’m fine.” Justin sighed. “I, I think I’d rather—stay on the couch.”

The boy looked at him after slipping on his bottoms. “Oh.”

Justin sighed again. “Look, I—I just want a little bit of space right now. Okay?”

Clay slipped on his white tee. “Are you feeling all right?”

Scoffing, Justin replied, “No. I can’t tell if I’m hot or cold right now, but I just—don’t feel like cuddling right now. And it doesn’t make sense to be in the bed together if we aren’t, so…”

The boy knelt beside him and pressed his wrist to Justin’s forehead. “Yeah, you are running a slight fever,” Clay said. “Are you in pain at all?”

Justin shook his head. “No.”

Clay offered him the bottle of water from the table. “Here, drink some more.” When Justin obeyed, the boy returned the water to the table before squeezing his hand. “Try to get some rest, okay? We’ve still got a ways to go.”

_Fucking hell_. His boyfriend had no right to still be so sweet with him all while Justin was being an ungrateful ass. He let out a sigh as Clay turned off the light and settled into bed.

“Clay,” Justin called, gazing up at the ceiling.

“Yeah?”

“I’m—you’re not allowed to listen to me, if I say something shitty. Or, or mean. I’m really trying, but—I don’t know if I’ll be able to help it.”

When Justin looked over at the boy, his boyfriend gave him a small smile in return. “Noted.”

Justin listened for a while, but couldn’t absolutely tell if Clay had fallen asleep yet, truly, or not. He continued to gaze up at the ceiling, dreading what might come the next time he woke up. He thought back to how things went the first time with Sheri, and wondered if things were more bearable this time around because Clay had been so soft with him.

Was the worst yet to come, still? He hadn’t felt these strange hot chills the last time, and while they weren’t excruciating, they were enough to turn him off close contact with Clay. Could Justin keep in control again while every nerve in his body was alight, screaming, for another hit? While his stomach constricted endlessly to turn itself inside out? While sweat oozed from all of his pores despite freezing his ass off? While every muscle in his body was sore down into his bones?

Those things hadn’t happened yet, and Justin didn’t know how he and Clay would keep this from Matt and Lainie this go-around if the shit were to really hit the fan. The boy hadn’t seemed worried at all. Was it because they’d done a better job managing his symptoms this time? Were they just lucky? Was it because Justin hadn’t been on the oxy for as long?

“Justin.”

He looked over at the boy, who had his back to him.

“Come to bed.”

With barely a moment’s hesitation, Justin rose from the couch and quickly crossed the room. As he slid into the bed—and into Clay’s arms—Justin felt a swell of relief wash over him.

“I’m sorry,” Justin whispered, clutching the boy’s chest.

Clay kissed his forehead. “Go to sleep.”

How could he think this wouldn’t be exactly what he needed? Once again, Justin was wrong, and he savored the feeling as he shut his eyes and inhaled his boyfriend’s warmth.

~ ~ ~

Terror floods Justin’s mind. He’s on fire. Panic guts him at his core.

It’s dark. Where is he?

Something’s about to happen. Something urgently bad. He realizes he’s in a bed, and no sooner when he remembers where he is does Justin manage to fling himself to the floor. He grabbed the pail as the terrible point-of-no-return came heaving up his throat before Justin found himself retching uncontrollably into the metal container.

His insides burned as it seemed like all of his internal organs were being wrung out like sponges. Utterly paralyzed as he vomited, Justin barely managed to hold onto the bucket to steady himself.

Yup. This was it.

The nausea persisted long after Justin managed to convince himself that he was merely running on empty. For a short while, he wondered if his body wouldn’t be satisfied until his entire stomach was in the bucket with the soup.

He barely registered that Clay was beside him, too, gently rubbing his back. Justin wasn’t sure how long the boy had been there, but he kept silent until after Justin had long stopped heaving.

“Here,” Clay said. Justin looked up to see him present a glass of water. “Rinse,” the boy went on, and somehow, Justin managed to obey. The boy then handed him a bottle of Pepto-Bismal, and a bottle of Gatorade. “Drink.”

Justin knew what to do. He’d been here before. As he downed the medicine, Clay swapped the buckets before draping a blanket around Justin. “I’ll be right back,” he said gently.

Justin wasn’t cold, and he wasn’t hot. But he was sweating. And shivering. His body didn’t know what the fuck was going on. He wrapped the blanket around himself and sat back against the bed before sliding the pail beside him, hugging it with one arm.

Clay returned to the room and quietly shut the door. As the boy set the bucket down by the desk, Justin remarked, “I tried to promise myself I wouldn’t make you clean up my vomit again.” He cleared his throat. “Another promise broken, I guess.”

His boyfriend sat across from him on the floor and shrugged. “Well, you made clean up a lot easier this time, at least.”

Justin blew out a laugh. “Practice makes perfect, baby.” When Clay scoffed, Justin went on, “Have I turned you off drugs forever?”

The boy gave him a look, then smirked. “Do you—really need to ask me that?”

Managing a chuckle, Justin said, “I hope I haven’t ruined alcohol for you, too.”

Clay snorted. “Let’s just blame Bryce for that one.”

“I still helped,” Justin insisted.

The boy sighed, then let out an airy laugh. “Now that you mention it—perhaps this _is_ karma, in a way. I threw up all over the kitchen table when I came home that day.”

Justin burst out laughing. “Fuck, Clay. Yeah, this—this is definitely karma.” He grinned. “That forty was almost as big as you! And you rode your bike home, too? Jesus. You’re lucky you didn’t get a DWI.” They laughed.

“You’re not turned off molly for real,” Justin asked, “are you?”

“You’re not smoking marijuana after this,” Clay said flatly. “Or anything.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

Another look. “Justin—I think you already know the answer to that. Why do you think I would want _anything _to do with drugs ever again?”

Justin gently tossed his head back against the bed. “Come on, Clay, I read what you testified about in court that day. Did you and Hannah not have a moment when you were both high?”

He spotted her on the couch, and met her gazed. She furrowed her brow at him, clearly displeased.

Clay scoffed. “If we had, do you really think we would both be where we are now?”

“No,” Justin replied simply. “But, if there had been a little more molly in the picture, you both might be together right now.”

“Justin,” Hannah warned, “stop.”

The boy sighed. “It didn’t seem to help you,” he uttered, “all the times you were hiding out in Bryce’s pool house.”

“How do you know about that?”

“It came up one time, a while back, when I was talking to Alex.”

Justin met Clay’s gaze. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong. It did help. A lot.”

Clay let out another long sigh. “We’re not discussing this right now,” he said, standing. “Not when you’re like this.”

The boy turned aimlessly around the room for a moment before looking back down at Justin. “You don’t honestly think you’d be able to go back to any kind of drug after this—do you? That’s not what we agreed.”

“Marijuana’s not addictive,” Justin insisted.

His boyfriend gave a bitter laugh and threw up his hands. “_Clearly_—not.”

“I mean, for you,” Justin went on. “It’s not addictive, Clay, really. If you’d just had—_something_—to take the edge off, you or Hannah—or both… Things could’ve turned out so much different. So much better.”

Clay knelt beside him. “Justin, stop, okay,” he said, reaching for his arms. “It wasn’t molly, anyway. Let’s get you back to bed.”

“I’m fine,” Justin insisted, waving him off, “I know. Look, I’m trying to say—maybe it should’ve been molly, instead. She’s sweet, Clay. She’s a truly sweet girl, really. She’s honest, and upfront. She doesn’t play games. She’ll smile at you in the hallway, and say hi to you when you’re scared to say it first.”

As Clay eyed him, Justin looked towards the couch. Where Hannah sat. “She’ll hold your hand,” Justin continued, “and won’t lead you astray. She’ll tell you exactly where you’re going, and give you a smooth ride all the way there. She’ll laugh at your stupid jokes and challenge you in ways you never thought possible. She’ll stimulate you in all the right ways. Not dirty—clean—and show you everything you never thought possible.”

Clay felt his forehead. “Justin, are you feeling all right?”

Justin took his hand. “I’m trying to explain.” He squeezed the boy’s hand.

“She’ll bring you back down, too. She’ll show you the way back. It might not be as fun as the way there, but what goes up must come down, and you’ll learn how to navigate those rocky spots together. She won’t let you down. She’s faithful, and reliable, and will always be there when you need her.”

Justin felt a tear fall down his cheek as Clay gazed back at him. “Justin…”

“She could’ve been the one for you,” Justin went on, “but I fucked that all up for you—like everything else in my life.”

“Justin.” Clay took his other hand and held Justin’s in both of his hands.

“Mary’s the good girl, Clay. Heroin? Now _that’s _the one you need to steer clear from. That H is the wicked witch you really need to be afraid of. She’s so beautiful—more beautiful than molly—and deceptively pure, who calls out to you with the sweetest song you’ll ever hear. Like, like those mermaids who call sailors to their doom?”

“Sirens,” Clay offered.

“Yeah, those cunts. She’s so enticing, it’s blinding, like she’s all that you can see, and the closer you get, the more beautiful she becomes. She offers a promise too good to be true, but fuck—as soon as she delivers—_fuck. _Does she deliver.

“She takes you all the way to the top with barely any warning, and it’s a thrill from zero to a hundred that so few things can match. And while she keeps you there, high above the clouds, you feel fucking untouchable. You feel so fucking _powerful_ and _strong_, like you can do _anything—_like _everything _is within your reach. You see the whole world in front of you and you think, ‘I am possible. I am everything,’ because she seeps into every cell in your brain and turns it all up to a thousand and you realize that you haven’t truly been alive until this moment.”

Clay was crying silent tears as he held Justin’s hand. When Justin paused, the boy cleared his throat. “So—and then what?”

Justin sniffled. “And then—she rips it all out of you. All at once. Turns you inside out, chews you up and spits you out, then kicks you in the balls for good measure before burning your wings to a crisp and letting you free fall back to hell. You feel everything as you’re coming down, like hitting every fucking cliff and rock on the way down the mountain. No parachute. No glider. No net.

“You hit the ground hard. So hard that you shatter completely into a million pieces. But she’s not done with you yet. She’s had every single part of you, now—she’s touched every single bit of you—and she puts you back together. She makes sure you feel every second of it, but you’re glad for it, because even though it’s the price you pay for such an incredible experience—every second of agony is actually just another second towards another go.

“And when she’s done, when you’re flat on the ground and she’s got her boot on your back, all you can say is, ‘thank you, may I have another?’ and she smiles at you with that sweet, innocent smile.”

Justin let go of Clay’s grip. “You see,” Justin continued, “she’s training you. She has an agenda, unlike molly. She’s like a parasite. She promises you more each time, but only gives you less with every go—and ends up consuming just a little more of you with every fall. There eventually comes a point where you start to take her on equal footing—you level out—and you can spar with that cunt on her playground.

“But you’re not, really. Truth is, you forget about everything that’s _not _her. You forget how to see, smell, taste, hear, _feel _without her. That power you feel—becomes a crutch, and you wonder why you even bother coming down at all.

“But—you know. You understand, she gives you less and less every time, and takes more and more with every go, and soon enough, there won’t be anything left for her. She starts to lose interest in you, and she stops bothering to act like she cares after a while. You can only beg her for more, and the longer it goes, all that she can possibly offer you—is pity. Before she grinds you up one last time.”

Clay sniffled, and rubbed his nose. “So, if you know all this, Justin—why?”

Justin let out a sob. “Because—it’s the only reason why I’m still alive.”

He let the tears flow freely. “Clay, I—I was in so much pain. I couldn’t stand to be alive. I wanted it all to end—but I was just too chicken-shit to actually do anything about it.

“It—it made everything bearable. It satisfied the part of me that wanted to die—thinking that I was killing myself slowly, anyway—and the part of me that wanted to live. The part of me that could think straight without the agony of what I’d done consuming me.”

Justin sniffled and quickly rubbed his eyes. “I’m—I’m not proud of the things I’ve done to, to do what I needed to do while out on the streets. Every day was a choice between food, and H, and more often than not, I’d choose the heroin, because while food made me forget why I wanted to live, H made me remember why I didn’t wanna die.”

He shook his head and blinked away the tears. “That’s why I don’t know if I can do this, Clay. I don’t know for sure—if I can truly beat this.”

Clay regarded him for a moment, his gaze stoic, but intent. Finally, the boy said, “You’re wrong, Justin. You said it yourself: heroin—is _not _a hero. It was not_ your_ hero. It is _not _the reason you’re still here. Everything you did, you shouldn’t feel ashamed for. Everything you did—was to _survive_, and survive, you did.

“Heroin is not your fucking hero, Justin. _You _saved yourself. _You—_are your own hero.”

Justin shook his head. “You and Tony should’ve left me out there. You shouldn’t have found me.”

The boy was silent. Justin could hear him swallow. “You don’t mean that.”

“Not right now, I don’t.”

A sob escaped Clay, and he flung himself towards Justin. As his boyfriend clutched him, Justin felt the dam burst once again.

“Justin,” Clay wept, “you—can do this. You’re so, _so _close. It’s always toughest right before the finish line. It’s always darkest before dawn. You have it in you to do this. You do. You _do. _You are not your addiction, and you are not the sum of all your mistakes.”

Feeling Clay run his fingers through his hair, Justin felt sobs overtake him as the boy went on, “You are so much more, Justin, and you have so much to give to everyone around you. This world is so much brighter because of you, and this earth so, _so_ needs everything it can right now not to go dark.

“Me, my parents, Jess, Zach, Alex, Tony, Sheri, Tyler, Sam—so many people love and care about you and want to see you well, and you are so, _so _much stronger than you know. You’ve been through so much, you have so much to teach us about grace and beauty and strength and kindness and… God, Justin, you are worth _everything _to me—I can’t say that enough.”

When Clay drew back, Justin met his gaze as the boy caressed his face. “So,” his boyfriend went on, sniffling, “fuck molly. Fuck heroin. Your addiction is not in control of you. It will not get the best of you. I bet my life on that.” A sob escaped Justin.

Clay thumbed his cheek. “If it’s not enough to be your own hero, will you—be mine? Honestly, you already are. You’ve just gotta—see this through.”

Unable to stem the tears, Justin began to nod desperately. “Yes,” he wept, “yes.”

He leaned into the boy, and let himself cry freely into his boyfriend’s shoulder. Clay held him tightly into the night, his embrace steady, and never faltering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I need to come clean about this chapter. There are three confused people here about names: Clay, Justin, and MYSELF :’( I wrote this chapter reaching for Mary Jane (weed) but landed on Molly (ecstasy). Clay is innocent and confused and thinks molly is marijuana. Justin knows Clay took ecstasy with Hannah and tries to segue into an analogy with marijuana/mary jane but ends up calling it molly too because detox. And I named this chapter molly instead of mary because I’m stupid and gullible... But anyway, Justin is trying to paint a picture of weed versus heroin here and Clay is going along with it because Justin is clearly a little out of it. Expect a later conversation between them on this later in the series. /runs away D’:


	20. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay returns a favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating goes up again for this chapter.
> 
> Ooh, writing this section has been a doozy. We're pretty much at the end of this part now, with only a quick epilogue remaining. More fun, angst, and drama to come in 2020...

Justin inhaled deeply as sunlight peeked through his eyelids. As he exhaled, and opened his eyes, he found himself in bed with the covers over him—and the mattress shifted differently than usual. Lighter. He was in bed, alone. Clay was nowhere to be seen.

“Clay?” he called, his voice hoarse. His throat hurt.

He heard a grunt, then a moan, and moved quickly to peer over the edge of the bed—Clay was on the floor, curled up in a blanket, with a pillow beneath his head.

“Did you fall off the bed?” Justin exclaimed, clearing his throat as panic rose inside of his chest.

The boy continued to groan. “No,” he managed to say.

Justin started to laugh. It was hard to resist the noises his boyfriend made while waking up. “What, what are you doing on the floor?”

A knock on the door was the response, which made Clay shoot up from the floor and hurriedly scoop up his blanket and pillow before flying across the room towards the couch.

“Boys?” Lainie. “Justin, Clay, are you awake?”

“Yeah!” Clay called as he settled frantically onto the couch. “Yeah, I’m up!”

“I’m coming in!” Lainie announced.

Justin settled back into bed as the door opened. When Clay’s mom stepped into the room, she glanced at the couch, then did a double take when she looked towards the bed. “Oh,” she uttered.

“He fell asleep on the bed,” Clay explained quickly, “and I didn’t have the heart to wake him after being up so late.”

“I see,” Lainie said. She looked towards Justin. “Did you have trouble falling asleep last night?”

“Yeah,” Justin replied. It was really, really hard not to crack a smile with Clay suppressing a grin across the room.

Mrs. Jensen sat on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

Taking a breath, Justin took a moment to register his senses. He didn’t feel cold anymore, or particularly warm or sore. Overall, he felt groggy, and possibly even a little hungry.

“I think I’m okay,” Justin offered. “How late is it?”

Lainie smiled at him. “It’s almost noon. I thought you might want to sleep in, but, surely, you ought to be getting a little hungry by now. Do you still feel like soup?”

Justin smiled back. “Yeah, I’d—I’d like that.”

She stood and went over to Clay, who sat up on the couch. “I’m okay, mom,” he said, “I’m not sick. Just a little tired, that’s all.”

Lainie still sat beside the boy and pressed a wrist to his forehead as he rolled his eyes. Justin grinned as Mrs. Jensen said, “All right, so, it’s definitely not contagious.”

When she stood, she asked Clay if he wanted soup as well, and he agreed. After she stepped out of the room, the boy got up from the couch and sat on the edge of the bed.

“How are you _really _feeling?” Clay asked.

Justin chuckled. “Really—I think I’m okay.” He sat up and stretched, letting the action draw a deep groan from his core. “A little groggy, and stiff, I guess,” he went on, “but overall—okay.”

“No chills, or nausea?” Clay pressed. “Anxiety?”

Justin shook his head. “No.” He gazed at Clay for a moment, and the boy returned his gaze. “I—I kinda remember last night. Or, I mean, this morning. I feel like that was the worst of it.”

“Yeah,” Clay agreed, “I think it was.”

Grinning, Justin said, “How’d you wind up on the floor?”

The boy grinned as well. “I waited until you were asleep, and as much as it sucked un-cuddling from you, I knew we were gonna oversleep and I didn’t want to risk someone barging in on us—like it almost just did.”

Justin laughed. “Still, why—the floor?”

Clay shrugged. “I, I just—didn’t wanna be that far away from you.”

Justin glanced down at the pail beside the bed. “I could’ve thrown up on you. Or stepped on you.”

Smirking, the boy replied, “It was a chance I was willing to take.” He wrapped his arm around Justin’s shoulder before kissing the top of his head.

As a burst of warmth swelled inside of him, Justin asked, “Did we do it? Is the worst of it—behind us?”

Clay squeezed him gently. _“You _did it. And yeah, I—I think it is.”

Justin took the boy’s hand, and Clay squeezed his hand in return after interlacing their fingers together.

~ ~ ~

Justin managed most of his usual morning routine, minus a shower, as he’d gotten frustratingly hungry after the simple effort of brushing his teeth. He met Clay downstairs for breakfast (well, lunch at that point) and felt stable enough to chance solid food again, opting for a waffle and toast after a bowl of soup.

Clay looked happy to see him work through a portion worthy of two full meals. “I take it your appetite is back?”

“Definitely,” Justin replied, his mouth full of waffle.

Lainie offered to clean up after them and so they went back upstairs. Clay left the door open while Justin settled back onto the couch.

“Are you—feeling stir-crazy at all?” Clay asked.

Justin shook his head. “Not really.” He exhaled deeply, and leaned back against the couch. “I feel tired, but I don’t wanna sleep.” He smirked at Clay. “I think you must be really rubbing off on me, ‘cause I kinda wanna do my homework.”

Clay laughed. “I think that’s all you, Justin.”

Justin chuckled. “Yeah, maybe it is.” He stretched, and let out a long groan. “God, I don’t wanna go out, ‘cause I can’t help but think about all the shit I have to do.”

Clay stepped over to take Justin’s book bag and sat at the side chair. “Okay, what do you need help on, first?”

“Everything,” Justin whined. “I have a paper due Monday.”

The boy unzipped Justin’s backpack. “Right,” he said, pulling out _Heart of Darkness_, “this is what you’ve been reading. You should probably finish reading it, first.”

“Can’t we just look up a summary online?”

Clay shook his head. “You’ve gotten this far, already.” He smiled. “I think you’ll get more out of it by finishing it.”

Justin grinned. “There you go again, believing in me.”

“Get used to it,” his boyfriend remarked, smiling back.

They got to work, Clay settling at the desk as Justin spread out over the couch and coffee table. As Justin neared the end of _Heart of Darkness, _he heard the doorbell ring.

“Who’s that?” Justin asked. They’d kept the door to the room open.

“It’s Scott,” Clay answered, not looking up from his work. “I asked him to bring by our assignments.”

It vaguely sounded like Scott introducing himself to Lainie downstairs. After exchanging pleasantries, Mrs. Jensen called up, “Clay! You have a visitor!” Justin and Clay laughed.

“The price of skipping window protocol,” Clay uttered.

Scott came through the door a moment later. “Hey guys,” he greeted.

Clay and Justin greeted him in return as he slid off his backpack and knelt beside the coffee table. He eyed the Pepto-Bismal on the table.

“You feeling better?” he asked Justin.

Justin nodded. “I am.”

Scott gave a quick laugh. “I’m pretty sure the last time I got food poisoning—was also from a gas station meal.” He looked over to Clay after setting a stack of papers on the table. “They should probably be banned from selling food altogether.”

“Yeah,” Clay agreed with a smile. Justin’s phone on the table buzzed.

After a beat, Scott stood, and continued, “So, I, um, was thinking about going to Jeff’s parent’s house today or tomorrow.” Justin picked up his phone from the table as Reed went on, looking towards Clay, “How do you think I should—do it? Should I just call, first?”

Justin saw on his phone screen a message from Sam: _You alive, bitch?_

Clay thought for a moment. “Well, you said you hadn’t spoken to them since the funeral, right?”

“Pretty much.”

“Call, definitely,” Clay went on. “Believe me—it’ll be much easier than just showing up out of the blue.”

Scott sighed. “I don’t have his house number.”

“Oh. Wait!” Clay grabbed his phone from the desk. “I think I might have it.”

“Really?” Scott remarked.

“It’s the first number they gave me when I got assigned as his tutor.”

As Clay looked through his phone, Justin shot Sam a reply, _You know it, bitch._

“Ah, here it is!” Clay exclaimed, then offered his phone to Scott.

“Thanks,” Reed said, glancing at it as he tapped on his own phone a several times, then sighed. “What do I even say?”

Clay thought for another moment, and shrugged. “Just say that—you’ve been thinking about them lately, and you were wondering if you could come by to talk, and just go from there.”

Scott raised an eyebrow before inhaling deeply. “Okay. Sounds—easy enough, I guess.”

“Don’t stress,” Clay offered, standing from the desk. “I’m sure they’ll be really happy to hear from you,” he went on, patting Scott on the arm before grabbing the papers from the desk. “Thanks again for bringing these,” he said, waving the assignments.

“Sure thing,” Reed said. “And—and thanks, again.”

Justin’s phone lit up with another notification as Scott left the room: _Lies. How do I know this isn’t your boyfriend covering up your untimely demise?_

Grinning, Justin started typing his response. As Clay sat back at the desk, he asked, “Is that Jess?”

“No, it’s Sam.”

_Because Clay only had to use the defibrillator once_   
_jk_   
_I’m dead_   
_jkjk_

_LOL_   
_Texting from the beyond_   
_Impressive_

As Justin laughed, Clay glanced up from his notebook. “What?” his boyfriend asked.

Grinning, Justin replied, “Just telling him we didn’t need to use the defibrillator you got me.”

“Hey!” the boy cried out. “I was trying to cover all my bases, okay?” Justin giggled.

_For real_   
_How’re you feeling?_

_Through the worst of it, honestly_   
_A little groggy_

_Lucky_   
_Glad to hear you’re doing okay_

Justin set his phone back on the table. “Why do you think I’m feeling better already?”

Clay looked over at him. “You’re probably going to feel drained for a while, actually. Your peak symptoms might be gone, but it’ll still take a while to adjust.”

“I didn’t start to feel this way so soon after the—the last time.”

His boyfriend seemed to think for a moment. “Maybe—the month of sobriety helped. Or maybe, you just haven’t been on the Oxy as long.” He shrugged. “Maybe, we just got lucky.”

Justin felt a presence in the room, but looked around discreetly to see no one else in the room with them.

“Maybe,” Justin offered, “your plan worked out perfectly.” He smiled.

Clay smiled back and shook his head before looking to his homework again. “I take no credit for your success. This was all you, Justin.”

“Not true,” Justin countered, “but okay.” He picked back up _Heart of Darkness_.

After another moment, Clay said, “I’m gonna spoil it for you, so it doesn’t dampen your mood, but—the ending kinda sucks.”

Justin laughed. “Spoiler alert—I’m not as dumb as I look.”

“No,” Clay agreed, “no, you are not. It’s a lesson I’ve long since learned about you.”

“Aww,” Justin cooed, and his boyfriend laughed.

~ ~ ~

“Okay. How about I draw you a bath?”

Justin continued working with Clay on their homework through the afternoon, stopping for dinner in the evening. Matt had a stew going in the slow cooker since that morning, and by the time its ludicrously delicious smell had started filling the house, Justin was starving for a break. Clay’s parents had both seemed happier than usual to see Justin at the table with them, and even more reassured to see him go through a double portion of stew. Justin’s appetite had returned with a vengeance.

After heading back upstairs, Justin worked on finishing the draft of his paper on Clay’s laptop. Although he’d been so optimistic and inspired before dinner—Justin was now totally blanking. No way was he gonna finish writing anything tonight.

When Clay seemed happy to stop, Justin was surprised. “A bath?” he asked the boy, chuckling. “I—honestly can’t remember the last time I took a bath.”

Clay stood from the couch and walked over to him, leaning over the chair to wrap his arms around Justin’s shoulders from behind. After a short squeeze, and a nuzzle against his temple, the boy uttered, “You’ve worked really hard these past few days. I think you deserve a break.”

Justin couldn’t help grinning. “Okay, sure.”

Once Clay had left the room, Justin decided to turn back to his paper for the time being—it was the only way to keep himself from getting too excited, or peaking too early. Clay’s embrace had left chills dancing around inside his chest.

A short while later, Clay returned. When Justin turned to look at him, the boy bowed lavishly and indicated the doorway. “All ready, sir.”

Bursting out with a brief laugh, Justin stood and made for the closet, sliding his shirt off along the way. After tossing it into the closet, and pulling off his sweatpants, he wrapped a towel over his underwear and looked to see Clay eyeing him shamelessly.

Justin tried to taper his grin. “You—joining me, Jensen?”

The boy’s lips quivered. “The bath’s not big enough for the both of us. Besides, I think you deserve a little _you_-time.”

As Justin made for the door, Clay called, “Oh, and Foley?”

“Yeah?” he replied, stopping.

“Enjoy it, but—don’t be _too_ long.” The boy began to smirk.

“Yes, sir,” Justin agreed.

He made his way down the hall and gingerly shut the door behind him. The room was steamy and smelled fruity, which made more sense after Justin drew the shower curtain and found the tub completely full of bubbles. Well, the smell wasn’t really fruity—what was it? Justin had trouble recalling the name he was reaching for.

He glanced over at the sink to find it wet, also, and realized it might be a good idea to quickly brush before he hopped into the tub. After he’d done so, the name finally came to him—lavender. That was what they called it.

Had Justin imagined it, or did he read somewhere that lavender was supposed to be a kind of—aphrodisiac?

Justin hung the towel and slid off his boxer briefs before stepping into the tub. _Ooh._ The water was hot, but pleasantly so. As he lowered himself slowly into the water, the bubbles tickled his skin, and made him laugh out loud. He felt ridiculous, but hell, the water felt good. He took a deep breath, shut his eyes, then submerged fully into the bubbles. The sudden silence and sensory deprivation was supremely soothing as the heat of the water seeped down into his muscles, and he felt nearly all tension in his body fast dissipate.

After a few moments had passed, Justin lifted himself from the water and lay back against the tub. He let his hands and legs float, and played into the buoyancy to make himself feel weightless. It was a literal contrast to the metaphorical heaviness he’d felt over the last few weeks, and he realized—his boyfriend was a fucking genius.

His boyfriend, who he so wanted above him right then, right there—above him—to kiss. His boyfriend whom he _so _wanted to be naked with in that tub, to feel every inch of his beautiful, bare skin against him. His boyfriend, with whom he wanted to run his hands all over, to caress his astonishingly taut biceps and the surprisingly strong muscles lining his back. His boyfriend, whose cute ass was to die for, and whose thick cock he’d give anything to feel throbbing in his hand—or better yet, surging with come across his tongue and down his throat.

Justin grunted as a shiver shook him—and he realized he’d reached for himself and had almost started jacking off. He was rock hard, and could feel his excitement leaking into the water. Fuck. Hadn’t Clay said to not take too long? He tried to blank his mind and started to rub the bubbles across his skin to at least mimic the motions of a shower, but also mainly to will his erection to soften.

It was fruitless, really. His dick had roared to life, and wasn’t backing down this time without getting what it was throbbing for. Justin stood and unplugged the drain, then turned on the shower to rinse himself off. As the bubbles gradually drained away, Justin couldn’t stop thinking about how big a load he was gonna shoot—this time was gonna be a record. It _had _to be. It had been too fucking long.

Minus when he was on the streets, and his whole body, including his dick, was largely broken. Whatever.

Justin finished rinsing himself off and quickly stepped out of the shower to towel himself off. His hair took the longest (he needed a haircut—soon), but as he wrapped the towel around himself, his semi was still really obvious and he caught himself right as he neared the door. Would his luck really be that shitty and make him run into Matt or Lainie right as he was stepping out of the bathroom?

Slowly, he opened the door, then stuck his head through the doorway. Thankfully, the coast was clear—and more importantly, the door to the master bedroom was closed. Justin trotted towards Clay’s room and opened the door.

After stepping inside and shutting it behind him, Justin found Clay immediately coming towards him.

_“You,”_ his boyfriend cooed, “took your sweet time.” He came to a stop practically atop Justin’s toes before resting his hands across Justin’s chest.

Justin inhaled the boy’s breath before managing a slight smile. Clay’s hands felt so damn good on him. “You _did _say to enjoy myself…”

Clay pushed him against the door and reached up to caress his face as he leaned into Justin, their noses barely touching, but a spark passing between them nonetheless.

“Well,” Clay whispered, “you better have saved some of that enjoyment for me.”

The boy began kissing him before Justin could respond. Justin audibly groaned as their lips and bodies met—he couldn’t help it—as the sensation of their mouths joining together once again like this released a surge of pleasure throughout his entire being. He dug into their kiss, eager to establish their tongue-play and to wager for dominance, but Clay met him in kind and the boy was equally greedy, if not more, to suck face.

Because, fuck elegance. They were both so fucking hot for each other and had deprived themselves of each other for so long, they were both brimming with desire to make up for lost time. To think of all the spit, sweat, pleasure, and come they could’ve gone through this week!

Justin leaned into the boy to move them away from the door, but it was clear Clay had different ideas. When his boyfriend abruptly ripped their lips apart, Justin whined briefly only for him to start tongue-lashing his jugular and sucking on the skin of his neck. _Ohhhhh fuckkk… _Justin breathed Clay’s name in infinite rapture as his heart pounded inside his chest. He could barely coordinate himself enough to hang onto Clay properly.

Groaning again as his boyfriend swapped to the other side of his neck, Justin relished the magic touch of Clay’s tongue, lips—and teeth. He felt the boy reach for and grip his erection through the towel before merging their mouths together again.

“Clearly,” the boy said between kisses, “someone—doesn’t need help—down there.”

When Clay drew back, Justin attempted a grin, but he was too winded to even shape his face muscles right. “Clay, I’m _always _hard for you…”

A quick laugh burst from the boy before he leaned back in towards Justin’s ear to whisper, “Good.”

Clay started kissing down his neck, across his chest—down his stomach, and across his bellybutton—and before Justin knew it, he found Clay, his boyfriend, on his knees. _Holy shit._ As Justin gaped down at him, Clay pulled on the towel and let it fall to the floor. Justin was now naked, fully hard, and standing before Clay, his boyfriend, who was on his knees and still dressed in his usual white-tee and boxer-brief nightwear. It was such an incredible contrast, being clothed and naked, that Justin was speechless.

As the boy gazed up at him—Justin’s cock mere inches from his face—Clay regarded him with a smirk. “This good?” he asked.

_Hell yes,_ Justin wanted to say, but there was a niggling of doubt—a stubborn, stupid fucking image he worked so hard to scrub from his mind _fuck that FUCK THAT—_

“Yes,” Justin breathed.

Clay’s expression grew smug. “You know,” he went on, gripping his fist around the base of Justin’s cock and making Justin moan, “I don’t think I’ve told you this—you’re fucking huge, Justin.”

Scoffing, Justin managed, “I’m, I’m not _that _big… _Oh my God!”_

As a chill shot through Justin, Clay had licked the very tip of his cock—where Justin was leaking heavily—and his boyfriend made a show of his tongue drawing back the thread of excitement it had secured.

“Well, you’re definitely gonna be a mouthful,” Clay bragged, releasing his cock, “but I’m up for the challenge.”

Justin reached to caress his boyfriend’s head. “You—you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

In response, Clay simply leaned in—and ran his tongue _oh so slowly_ beneath the underside of his cock and Justin _oh my fucking god _nearly exploded. Involuntarily, he shut his eyes, but he felt his manhood come to rest against his boyfriend’s face as he leaned in once more to tease his balls, licking them with the tip of his tongue before drawing them in more completely into his mouth to suck. _FUCK _Clay felt amazing, and Justin felt so flattered to see that the boy seemed to be returning the favor in kind from the first time.

Realizing he was audibly moaning again, Justin opened his eyes and looked back down to see Clay staring right back up at him. Finally, he understood, and the boy licked up his shaft more quickly this time before slowing as he neared the head of his cock—then wrapped his lips around it completely as he gradually took Justin inside of him.

“Oh—fuck,” Justin cried out. It was all so perfect. The boy obviously wanted him watching as he, Clay, took Justin’s cock in his mouth. His boyfriend’s firm heat enveloping his manhood was _fucking amazing _and quite simply the most incredible sensation Justin had ever experienced, bar none. Clay kept his tongue and lips wrapped around his cock as he began gradually establishing a sliding motion, and when the boy gripped the rest of his shaft with his fist, Justin was ready to lose his fucking mind.

He had to lean back against the door to steady himself, for if he’d gone the other way, his knees might’ve bucked and he would’ve tumbled over Clay. The boy sucked him slowly, and seemed to be truly savoring the action. Justin could think and feel of nothing else as Clay went down on him, and his entire body seemed to be almost vibrating as involuntary noises of ecstasy continued to escape him—the both of them, really, as Clay seemed to hum and groan in sympathy every so often—intensifying the pleasure being lapped across his cock.

Justin thought he was imagining it, but as Clay changed the grip on his cock, he wondered if his boyfriend was trying to take more of him—until he felt the head of his cock meet the back of the boy’s throat and Clay drew back sharply, coughing loudly after a briefly intense moment of quiet.

_“Fuck!” _the boy exclaimed, coughing again. His entire face was red, and he was obviously trying not to cough. “Fuck,” he repeated hoarsely, “sorry…”

“Hey, hey,” Justin cooed, gently running his fingertips through the boy’s hair, “you’re driving me—_fucking insane _right now, Clay. That’s how good you’re doing.” When his boyfriend met his gaze, Justin grinned. “You’ve already got me so close. Fuck. Tongue and lips—that’s it. Don’t worry about trying to take more of me right now. I’m ready to blow.”

Clay smiled. “You want me to swallow?” He licked the tip of his cock again, making Justin shudder. “I’ve always kinda wanted to taste it—straight from the source.”

Justin inhaled deeply. _Fuck_. “Next time,” he uttered. “I’ve never saved up this long, I wanna see how big this fucking load is—dripping down your chest.”

The boy took that as his cue to lift his shirt over his head and Justin helped him toss the shirt aside. _Now,_ things were even better, that Justin could see his boyfriend’s lovely shoulders. Clay gripped Justin’s erection and took him in his mouth once more. He began to suck a little more firmly—quadrupling the pleasure as he slid his tongue and lips across and around his cock in tandem with his fist. It was the endgame combination, now—the _check,_ the sweet, intense, and steady march towards _mate_.

But Clay wasn’t speeding up very quickly, no. He kept an irregular, rapid pace, and Justin guessed he might be trying to figure out his tells. Justin was obviously going to say when he was about to come, but he was first gonna savor this blissfully intense moment if it killed him.

The choice was soon stripped from him, though, as his body and his faculties veered on shutdown.

_“Fuck,_ Clay—I’m gonna come!”

A shout escaped him as his entire body spasmed and his whole being began surging through his cock. He felt Clay’s strong grip slow its strokes as his cock shuddered several seemingly countless times, eruptions of chills and tingles careening across his nerves and muscles as the orgasm flooded his mind with unadulterated _euphoria._

He realized the noises he was making as he heard Clay moaning with him, too. The boy continued to stroke him gently after the come finally stopped surging, and when Justin managed to look back down again, he saw his boyfriend also stroking himself—his left hand in his underwear, and a pool of thick, white come between his knees and Justin’s feet.

It was nothing, though, compared to the cascade of product clinging and dripping down Clay’s neck, chest, and stomach. Letting go of Justin, Clay grunted and stood up from the floor before gazing down at himself and nodding in approval of the impressive mural Justin had splattered across his body.

“Damn, Justin,” Clay remarked, running two of his fingers across a solid splash of come on his pectoral before bringing it into his mouth, “mhm, wow, you—_really _saved up, didn’t you?”

Justin could only gaze back at his boyfriend for a moment. He had to admit—seeing the come on Clay’s chest was really fucking _hot_. Finding a burst of energy within him, he leapt towards the boy, who yelped in amusement as Justin grabbed onto him, pressing their bodies—and come—together before making out heavily—deeply—with him once more.

After a short while, once he had his fill of Clay’s mouth, Justin drew back and let out a deep sigh as he rested his forehead against Clay’s. He peered down at the come on the floor, and the come slowly dripping down into Clay’s underwear (his semi-hard cock still hanging out).

“What a waste,” Justin sighed.

“Sorry,” Clay uttered, grinning. “I was—so fucking hard, too. I couldn’t help myself.”

They laughed. “I fucking love you, Clay.”

“I love you, too,” the boy echoed.

They separated, and Clay retrieved the towel on the floor to wipe themselves off and clean the floor.

“I guess we both need to shower again, huh?” Justin said.

Clay shook his head, seemingly unable to stop grinning. “I don’t wanna wash off your accomplishment completely, tonight, if that’s okay.”

Justin laughed. “Okay.”

The boy slid off his underwear and tossed it into the closet. Now that they were both naked, fully, they couldn’t seem to stop giggling as Clay led Justin to the bed. After shutting off the lights, they pulled the covers over them and settled into each other’s arms, facing one another.

“I’ll get better at that, you know,” Clay said.

“Clay—you were fucking amazing,” Justin insisted.

“Yeah, but—I still gagged, though.”

“Hush. Fucking amazing, I said.”

“But you didn’t gag.”

Justin pecked him on the lips. “Don’t worry about that,” he said, then giggled. “I’ll let you practice all you want.”

Clay giggled with him. “You better let me swallow next time, Foley.”

Justin grinned. “As long as you let me return the favor.”

The boy feigned a dramatic sigh. “Oh boy, we’re—gonna be doing this a lot, now, aren’t we?”

“I’m game—if you are. I mean, come on. How can you possibly improve on naked cuddles?”

His boyfriend laughed. “Naked spooning?” he offered, then turned his back towards him.

Justin eagerly brought their bodies close again and intertwined their arms together. “Perfect,” he whispered.

Clay squeezed his hand. “Agreed.”

Their breathing quickly synchronized, and all Justin could think of as he fell asleep was a word he never thought he’d experience. A single, perfect word that encapsulated his entire existence at that moment there with Clay, his boyfriend.

Bliss.


	21. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin finds his place.

“Aren’t we kind of early?” Justin asked.

Clay had just pulled onto the school lot, putting the car in park after finding an open spot. “Yeah,” he replied, looking over at Justin. “I wanted to stop by the library this morning, if that’s okay. I think I need to get another look over your paper.”

The boy was smirking at him, which made Justin laugh. They’d been—distracted throughout the day on Sunday, to say the least. In the evening, too. And—that morning, as well. “Okay,” Justin said.

As they made for the main entrance, Justin wondered how they were possibly going to keep their hands off of each other when they were alone. Once inside, Justin realized, maybe they’d just been pent up from an entire week of abstinence. Or maybe being sober just made Justin really horny. Once he’d truly leveled out, his sex drive would return to normal.

He’d talked a little with Clay about it the night before, and the boy had remarked that perhaps there were worse side effects he could be facing. They wouldn’t know for a few days, yet.

As Justin followed Clay to the library, he itched to hold the boy’s hand as they walked. But, he opted to play it cool, feeling a rush of exhilaration at the thought of being so open and perhaps so bold about their affection. He and Clay hadn’t officially made things public, yet, and everyone important enough knew already. For the time being, that circle of people was enough.

That exhilaration turned to panic when they stepped into the library and Justin found said circle all gathered around a table—Jess, Alex, Tony, Zach, and Scott. They looked up as he and Clay approached, although Justin slowed considerably before coming to a stop several feet from the table.

Justin eyed them all suspiciously as they smiled or looked on encouragingly at him in varying degrees before shifting his focus back to Clay, his sneaky boyfriend.

“Is this—an intervention?”

The boy merely chuckled as Jess replied, standing, “Alex filled me in on why you were really sick this weekend.”

“Me too,” Zach added.

Jess came towards Justin—and hugged him. He was taken aback at first, but managed to embrace her back as Alex added, “And Jess had the idea for all of us to gather.”

“And I agreed,” Clay finished, “that it’d be a good idea.”

When Jess parted from Justin, he glanced at her briefly before averting his eyes. “I—I didn’t mean to lie to you.”

She grasped his arms and gently squeezed. “It’s okay, really,” she assured. “I know—this must have been really hard for you.”

“We all got eyes on you, now,” Tony said, also standing to approach them, “so if you think you’re gonna get away with this again—”

“What he means is,” Clay interjected, stepping beside Tony, “we’ve all got your back, Justin.”

Zach stood, and patted Justin’s shoulder. “So, if it gets hard—when it gets hard—you can come to us.”

“Any of us,” Alex said, taking a step with his cane towards them.

Scott came up to close off the circle. “You really helped me through a rough spot,” he added, patting Justin’s arm. “The least I can do—is return the favor.”

Jess smiled at Justin. “We’re all here for you.”

Sniffling, Justin forced a laugh, and was grateful that no tears fell when he blinked a few times to clear his vision. “Jesus,” he breathed, forcing another brief laugh, “I, I wasn’t expecting this.”

Clay patted and rubbed his back. “Well, get used to people caring about you. We’re rooting for you.”

“This is just the start,” Jess went on, “but it’ll get easier, day by day.” She looked towards Clay, and they grinned at each other. “You’re in good hands,” she said.

Clay hugged Justin, then Jess, then Zach, then all the rest of them—and their combined group hug broke Justin’s last restraints, leaving him to weep freely into their collective embrace. After several moments, they began to separate, and once they’d all parted, Justin sniffed again and palmed the tears from his eyes.

“This won’t trip me up again,” he said. “I won’t let it.”

The first bell rang, and they all started to make their way out of the library. Scott caught up to Clay and Justin as they stepped into the hallway.

“Hey,” Clay said, turning back towards Scott as they came to a stop, “I almost forgot to ask—did you end up speaking to Jeff’s parents?”

Scott nodded slowly. “Yeah, I did—kinda. I did call, and ended up stopping over, but only his mom was home at the time. Which, I guess, ultimately made things easier, looking back on it now.”

“Were you able to talk—for real?” Justin asked.

Reed let out a sigh. “Not at first. We made small talk, and reminisced for a while—until I finally worked up the nerve to, to gradually hint—and dance around—what I really came there to say. I never ended up saying the words aloud, but, I think Mrs. Atkins—understood.”

He gave a quick laugh. “Don’t worry,” he said, grinning, “I kept my shit together better this time, and I ended up only saying that I needed to share with somebody who really cared about him, too.”

Clay was nodding. “How did she—react?”

Scott shrugged. “She seemed—a little emotional, I guess. I was trying to keep myself in check, too, but I think I moved her, still. I mean, it’s not like I told her every single thing—just enough to, to get my point across.”

He took a deep breath, and looked towards the floor. “She ended up giving me a hug, and telling me, ‘I think he could have really loved you, if he’d known.’ So, really—she said it for me. She thanked me for coming by, and after I left, I decided—that’s as good as I’m ever going to get.” He raised his palms. “And so—I’ve gotta start moving on.”

Clay patted Scott’s shoulder. “It’ll still take time. I can’t say when it’ll necessarily get easier, but I’ve learned that—you’ve got to try to accept closure in whatever form it takes. It’s rare that you ever get it—the way you want it.”

Scott thanked them again, then set off. After Justin and Clay resumed walking, they neared a juncture in the hallway where they’d need to split off. Not letting an awkward pause happen as kids passed around them, Clay immediately hugged Justin as they came to a stop.

“Oh my god,” Justin laughed, embracing his boyfriend back, “so many hugs!”

The boy only squeezed him harder. “I’m proud of you,” he said, “and I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They parted, then went their separate ways down the hall. After a few steps, Justin looked back behind him to see Clay doing the same.

They grinned at each other, and Justin turned forward again to begin the rest of his day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...


End file.
